


Escape Velocity

by Shorknado



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: When a chance to escape Ormond rises, Frank takes it. That chance leads him across the country to Florida, to the American Dream. A fresh start, freedom.But just what were the odds that the first car he jacks brings him face to face with a monster.Former Title: Hell Is A Place On Earth With You
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison
Comments: 202
Kudos: 462





	1. American Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no see i have a mullet now
> 
> Edit 12/5/2020: under rewrite as of now! Hopefully it'll flow better!
> 
> Edit:01/5/2021: rewrite is finished! Enjoy the new scenes

"So how'd this fucker die?" 

"Watch your damn language boy." Clive grumbles, finishing off a beer can and quickly reaching into the cooler for another one, "This "fucker" was my great aunt." 

Frank rolls his eyes, staring at the pristine house and its perfectly manicured flower beds. It looked as if whoever lived there actually cared enough to make the house a home, a concept he had never been able to wrap his head around. Most importanly the place made his skin crawl, but that could also be the pressing humidity that was more like a coffin than a state of moisturein the air. Despite having taken his jacket off the moment they stepped out of the airport he was sweating. Even after stripping off his hoodie and undershirt in the short drive to the house. He was tempted to take off his shirt too and it wasn't even noon. Too early to subject the public to his skinny pale arms. 

Clive grunts, crushing the beer can and dropping it on the ground. Frank pushes off the hot metal of the car and follows the man towards the bright yellow door. He fucking hated this place, and he had only been here an hour. He stands behind Clive as the man pulls out the small clip of keys he had gotten from this bitchs death lawyer or what-the-fuck-ever and unsucessfully attempts to unlock the door with every single key. He can feel sweat run down his back and wishes for the blistering chill of Ormonds winters for the first time in his life. Even if certain chills bring back the memory of nights he'd rather forget. 

Finally a key turns and Clive pushes the door open to a dark interior. Upon flipping on the light Frabk sets his eyes on what can only be described as an old ladies living room. He walks in, dragging a hand over the couch and eyeing the bowl of hard candies on the end table. To his left was a old oaken dining room table with vibrant fake flowers. He steps towards it curiously looking around at the pictures on the wall of people he didn't recognize while Clive stomps off to find the ac unite and turn on more lights. The thought that one of the people in these old pictures could be younger Clive flits through his head, along with the usual pang of sadness at the sight of photos. He turns away and catches sight of a scrap of orange tape hanging off the kitchen door. Splayed across it us biohazard in big bold letters. Another strip read crime scene do not enter. 

A grin spreads across his face as he steps into the kitchen and turns the light on. The room was pretty much spotless and reeked of bleach. Nothing sat on any of the counters besides a few more scraps of tape, abd a big box full of pots and pans. Further investigations reveals the cupboards and fridge completely empty. A frown crosses his face at the dissapointing find. He was at least hoping for something cool or a bit of junk food. 

"That fridge still work?" Clive asks, no doubt serching for a place to cool his beers. 

"Sure does. Clean as a whistle too. Did your auntie drop dead in here or what?" 

The man shrugs and wipes sweat off his brow. Larger sweat patches were growing on his collar and underarms as well. The expression on his face was incredibly sad as he looked around the empty room. 

"Could say that." 

Frank raises his eyebrows, waiting impatiently for an elaboration as Clive sighs again, forever put upon by the burden he asked for. 

"She was murdered in here. Some serial killer that's been prowlin' through this place up and stabbed her to death in here. For no goddammit reason too." Clive explains, a surprising twing of meloncholy in his voice, "Auntie was a real bitch, only here cause I outlived all her other relatives." He adds with a sardonic snort, any hints of compassion now gone and the good old cunt he remembered. 

"Cool." Frank grins looks a little closer at the walls and floor in hopes of finding any blood splatter, "How'd he do it?" 

"Learn some fuckin' manners, boy. Bodys barely even six feet under and your bein' a rude little shit. Just cause you ain't got a family to give a fuck about don't me I don't." 

Damn, the cleaners did a great job. The floors we're practically sparkling. He doesn't give Clive the satisfaction of knowing he was bothered by his comments and instead inspects the crate for any sort of knife that could be the murder weapon. 

"So you're not gonna tell me?" He offers blandly. 

"I don't know how he did it. Go read a paper or ask those shit head reporter's that'll ride up in a few minutes to bother me." Clive growls, stomping off to grab his two-four from the car to put in the fridge. 

Frank rolls his eyes, sparing one last glance around the kitchen before leaving to explore other parts of the house. The cleaners did their job too well to leave anything good. The house was much larger than the small bungalow he had shared with Clive for the past three years, and much more lived in. Pictures all over the walls of happy families spawning generations, a few were even at Ormond when the resort wasn't a shithole. Though he preferred the fucked up Gravette strewn mess that it was now. His only solace was that Clive wasn't in a single one. Look who doesn't have a family either, drunk piece of shit. He pushes the backdoor open and inspects the backyard. Heat bears down on him like a rabid animal. A welcomed floral smell cloys his senses and replaces the dusty old person smell. 

A few birds populate the bird bath and feeder. The bright yellow one catches his attention, he had never seen a bird like that out in the wild before. He watches it for a few minutes, thoughts drifting back north. He didn't tell anyone he was leaving, even after the week it took to get his passport. It was easier not to really. To just pack up and fly down without a word than deal with the inevitable fallout from them when he tells them he ain't coming back. His hand drifts to his pocket and he pulls out his wallet, digging out the small polaroid of the four of them up at the ski resort last winter. A strange twist of emotion hits his stomach and he quickly returns the photo to the wallet and shoves it away. It had barely been a day without them, no time to be a pussy. 

Idly he jumps off the porch and walks through the lush backyard. Sweat rolls down his arms as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up into a makeshift tank top. A movement catches his eyes and he looks down and sees a bright green lizard on a rock. A smile spreads across his face and he crouches down to look at the creature. The only time he ever seen a lizard was when he went to Calgary Zoo on a shitty field trip. He had always really enjoyed the way those things looked, especially the snakes. But this thing was really cool too. It had pitch black eyes and weird red throat dangle like a rooster. 

He reaches for it slowly. Hand hovering over it before dropping his hand to grab the lizard. A green flash streaks out from his grasping fingers, moving to a different rock and looking at him curiously. He edges closer, now using both hands to slowly encroach the creature. Waiting a moment before clamping both hands over the lizard, trapping it between his hands. 

"Gotcha!" He cheers, scooping the lizard up and keeping it enclosed in his sweaty palms as the cool body twitched inside its cage. 

"Excuse me! Are you related to Mrs. Andrews?" A voice snaps him out of his capturing of innocent reptiles. 

A man stood on the other side of the vine covered gate separating the side yard from the backyard. His lengthy dark hair was held back by round glasses propped up on his head. The guy wasn't sweating uncontrollably like him or Clive, which was impressive considering he had a long sleeve shirt on. Frank tilts his head, this guy must be one of the reporters Clive mentioned, or sone local. 

"What's it to ya?" Frank asks, walking towards the man and stopping short of the gate and running his eyes over the man. Aside from the shirt he had a camera around his neck and notebook hanging out of his jean pocket. 

"I work for the Roseville Gazette and I was hoping to send my condolences to the families of the victim." The man explains, flashing a bright smile and extending a hand, "I'm Jed Olsen." 

Frank doesn't take it, mostly due to the lizard in his hands. He glares at it brief until Jed lowers his hand, raising his eyebrows at the clamped hand. 

"What ya got there?" 

He looks down at his hands and opens them. The lizard tilts its head, staring up at Frank with ice black eyes. Jed let's out a slow whistle of interest. 

"A green anole?" 

"What did you call me?" Frank snaps, shoulders tensing in anger. 

"No, no the lizard! Its a green anole, they're everywhere around here." Jed says, pointing at the creature in his hand before tilting his head, "Are you from around here?" 

"No." Frank admits, watching the lizard crawl up his arm. The weird scaly feet tickle his arm and he holds back a smile as it perches on his shoulder. 

"Oh wow. I've never seen one of those do that!" Jed leans against the gate, dark eyes staring at him with idly curiosity, "Are you good with animals or just reptiles?" 

He glows under the compliment and shrugs. While he always seemed to have a way with stray cats and dogs lizards were uncharted territory. 

"There's not any lizards where I'm from, but I guess I'm a natural." Frank says reaching up and scooping the anole into his hand and setting it on the gate. 

"I didn't realize Mrs. Andrews had nephews. She never really talked about anyone, well, alive." Jed says, reaching for the anole only for it to rush off into the leaves. 

Frank shrugs, "I'm not related to her. My foster parent is. She's his uh, great aunt or sonething." 

"Oh, well that explains a lot then." Jed reaches for his notepad and Frank scowls, although upon noticing his expression he stops his annoying reporter shtick, "Sorry. Bit of a habit. Well let your foster parent know I'm sorry for his loss." 

"Sure." 

They stare at each other for a few moments. Frank feels oddly unsettled at the intensity of the mans gaze. Like he was picking apart everything he said and did for whatever reason. Maybe it was just a weird reporter thing. Jed pulls away from the gate suddenly. 

"I gotta get goin'. Enjoy your time in Florida though! It's a great place!" 

"Yeah, you too." Frank says, waving goodbye to the weird stranger. He returns inside, grateful for the deep chill if the AC unite. 

Clive was hard at work putting price things into big cardboard boxes with prices scrawled in the side. As soon as he sees him coming in he waves him over. 

"Here, put these price stickers on all the furniture. Don't make anything over 80 I want all this shit gone by tomorrow. Then start packing rooms into boxes, leave all the clothes hanging." 

"Sure." 

"If ya see anything you want just take it. I don't care." Clive grabs a photo frame off the wall, staring at it for a few seconds before putting it in a 50 cent box.  
Frank takes the stickers and starts wondering room to room, slapping them on the heavy furniture that could no doubt be sold for much more. He did take his time dig through a few hot spots were valuables could be. He managed to find a nest egg of about two hundred in cash and the old ladies purse which had a bunch of loose change and forty bucks. He was feeling pretty good about all the free money he had come across. 

In fact he had been toying with an idea while on the plane. He was in a while new country, and part of it that wasn't filled with tiny towns hours apart. Stealing from Clive would get him in a whole heap of trouble, but what if he just....vanished. Its not like the guy was still getting checks for him anymore. Once he was gone guy was free to go pick up another kid to leech government money off. It was a win win for both of them.  
Running away from the skeletons in his closet had never been easier.


	2. Grand Theft Auto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chaptsrs might take a bit as i get my inspiration for this back.

Frank is woken up to a loud knock on his door and Clive's tired voice telling him to make his bed and get dressed. He does as he's told for once, mostly since he doesn't have to make the bed having only used the light throw blanket as opposed to the handmade quilt. He takes the first willing cold shower of his life and spends thirty minutes searching for a pair of scissors to cut the sleeves off his Metallica shirt in preparation for the oppressive heat. As soon as he can he was hitching a ride north to cooler weather. 

He meets Clive in the front room, putting on his best innocent face as the first buyers of the day start to trickle in. He was going to pocket most of the cheaper sales his did, hopefully Clive wouldn't notice too much since he would deal with the bigger items. Thankfully the first few hours of the estate sale are productive. The largest and oldest furniture is handled by Clive, a few gray hairs pick through the sewing supplies for a few minutes before buying the whole lot of it for twenty when he was going to ask for five. The small talk about a dead lady he wasn't even related to was annoying, but the ladies seemed to love his little sob story of never having a family. And they loved his accent. 

Once seven rolls around the house is mostly picked clean of large furniture and anything of real value. Frank watches a small family haul the couch out from the spot on thr front porch swing. They look happy, talking and laughing up a storm. He isn't jealous, not anymore. Maybe when he was ten, or hell fifteen it would've made his blood boil. But he was too old to long for a loving family with earnest. All he could do was wonder where he was going to sleep now that the guest bed and couch were gone. Heading out late wasn't in his plan. 

"Here boy." Clive says, holding out a wad of money and a beer. Frank takes both, cracking the cold beer before counting out the money. American money was hard to count, all being the same shabby shade of green but he eventually comes up with around 5,000 dollars. He passes it back to Clive. Who had another big wad of money. To his surprise Clive counts out two hundred dollars and gives it to him. 

"For your work today." 

"Thanks." Frank replies, sipping from the shitty beer and setting it aside to get warm. He looks up at Clive, who has a bit of a lost expression on his face. A few moments pass before the man speaks. 

"I can get you a ticket back to Ormond tomorrow if you want, call Grant to pick you up at the airport and you do whatever the hell it is you do with your buddies. When I get back I can get ya a car or somethin' to help you move out." 

It only takes a few moments for Frank to come up with a plan. 

"Just drop me off in town, I'll figure it out from there." 

"You sure, boy?" Clive frowns, glancing at the rental then at Frank. 

"I mean its the land of opportunity. Might as well go get it." 

Frank shrugs, getting to his feet as he shoves and walks through the empty house to the guest room that was empty of everything but his back pack. He slips the extra money into a hidden pocket with the other bills he found before pulling on and returning to the porch. Clive looks at him and shrugs, closing and locking the front door before heading to the rental. Frank kicks a few beer cans out of the passenger seat and gets comfortable. They ride in silence into the town, much bigger than Ormond could ever wish to be. Clive pulls into a parking lot and idles the car, Frank grabs his duffle and reaches for the door handle. 

"Frank..." Clive sats softly, staring out the window, "Don't say I never did anything good for you kid." 

He stares at Clive in confusion. The man refuses to make eye contact with him. It was making Frank feel vaugly uncomfortable. He wasn't one for sentimentality, he never cared enough about foster parent to miss them. 

"I'd never even dream of it." Frank replies sarcastically. 

"I'll tell your buddies you're doin' okay." Clive adds, "And uh, if you need somethin' you can call me up." 

"Sure....sure..." Frank says, quickly opening the door and getting out, "See you, Clive." 

"See you, kid." 

He shuts the door to the rental and slings his duffle bag over his shoulder. Not looking back as he walks off, free of his old life for the first time. Free of the darkness in Ormond. His steps felt lighter already. 

Now he just needed to steal a car, then he would be perfect. Hitchhiking was dangerous after all. Julie told him enough about Peewee Gaskins and the CoEd killer to put him off on the idea. It was dangerous in the states, and he'd rather deal with the cops than a psycho killer. 

The sun had faded away by the time he comes across a mostly deserted parking lot behind a building. Away from main street and mostly empty, save for a few cars sulking in the shadows. The perfect spot for a fun bit of car jacking. He makes his way to an older looking silver sedan, cars less likely to have alarm systems in them. Frank pulls on the handle and to his suprise the door opens. That makes his life a bit easier. He tosses his bag into the passenger seat, noticing another bag sitting on the floor. Free shit to dig through later. Before doing all the hard work of hotwiring he looks around for the keys. Flipping down the sunshield on the passenger side wields nothing. He flips down the drivers one and ring with one key on it lands neatly in his lap. What a dumb ass. 

The car starts up without any trouble and he pulls out of the lot, turning the headlights due north and rolling the windows down all the way. He would drive as far as he could tonight before pulling aside off in a rest stop to catch a nap. Way safer than thumbing around a state he doesn't know. It was exciting, to finally have the whole world to himself. Not trapped in a system or a small town. Free to drive wherever he wushed. He leans back as the warm air ruffles his hair. Leaving Roseville behind for greener pastures. After about ten minutes the roads are empty once he hits the freeway, changing the station to the first rock one he finds. From there he simply stares at the road ahead, cruising at nice fast 70 mph. The car had a full tank too so he could go pretty damn far. He was on the road for at least two hours until he looks in the rearview mirror and sees the man staring back at him. 

He jumps slightly and almost stomps on the break, small gasp of fear escaping him. The man looks vaugly familiar, slight stubble and messy hair from sleeping in the car. He sees a smile form on the mans lips now that Frank had finally noticed him. 

"Can you-" 

"Shut the fuck up." Frank growls, breaks screeching and gear shift grinding as he pulls over to the side off the road and throws the car into park. He pulls his boot knife from his pocket and awkwardly twists in the seat to point it at the intruder. 

The man is silent, cold brown eyes staring into his. Not an ounce of fear in their expression. Frank shoves the knife at him, baring his teeth like an animal. 

"Get out." 

"It's my car." The man replies softly, glancing at the door. His voice was aloof and decidedly not afraid. Almost sleepy. Almost familiar. 

"Mine now. Get out or leaving you on the side of the road to walk will be the nicest thing I fucking do to you." 

When the man doesn't move Frank pulls the keys out of the ignition and opens his door, leaping out and yanking the back side door open. Under the light of the full moon he can see a pile of clothing and the blanket the man was sleeping on, more duffle bags sitting on the floor. Before he can reach in and pull the man out the fucker pounces on him. Sudden force knocks Frank on his ass, head hitting the asphalt hard enough to see stars. He keeps a firm grip on his knife however, bringing it up and stabbing the blade blindly at the man. He feels it sink into something but his hand is quickly ripped away from the hilt of his knife. The man above him shifts and he feels his biceps forced down by the guys knees. 

He blinks away the lights flashing over his eyes and looks up at the man. His blade was literally sticking out of a leather shoulder pad looking thing. Frank tries to thrash against the knees holding him down as he watches the freak pull the knife from his shoulder and admire the blade. 

"Where are you heading?" The man asks, voice low and smooth. It makes him shudder. 

"Fuck you!" 

"I'm not a call girl." He replies, spinning the knife in his hand before bringing it down and gently pressing it to Frank's jugular. The action is so slow and controlled its almost more scarier than if he had just stabbed him outright, "I'll give you a ride back, wouldn't want anyone to miss you, right?" 

It was hard to believe kindness would come from a man about to slit his throat. The longer he stares at the nan the more he recognizes him. Racking his brain he manages to come up with a name. 

"Jed?" 

The mans eyes practically light up, face morphing into a estatic smile. With his free hand he grab Frank by the chin forcefully and jerks his head up uncomfortably. He realizes that maybe he shouldn't have implied that he remembered him. The blade of his knife shifts against his throat and Frank thinks that he might well and truly be fucked. The epiphany must have shown on his face as Jed lets out a soft laugh. Threatening his way out wasn't going to work, he needed a new angle. Docile wasn't the way he was going to go out either, so he had to be very carefully. He stops struggling then, laying back and staring at the star covered sky. It was different from Ormond, less of them shone. But it could also be the moon. He feels the man shift above him, and then move off his chest to unpin his arms. The knife leaves his throat. Cautiously Frank sits up, Jed was now crouched mostly in his lap with a thoughtful expression in his face. Finger still gripping his chin and forcing him to meet his cold eyes. 

"Tell me where you're heading, I'll give you a ride." The man says gently, it almost sounded like he actually cared a little about Frank. But he could hear something lurking in that tone, something dark. 

"Next town over." Frank replies quickly. 

"What's it called?" 

The darkness hidden under that original kindness rears its head. He watches the Jed laugh when he comes up blank. 

"You don't even know where you are, do you?" 

He lunges for the knife in Jed's hand. Fingers brushing the handle before intense pain blooms on the side of his head. He hears the knife drop as two hands wrap around his neck and squeeze. Instinct takes over Frank and he dredges a new found rage as he reaches up and claws at the fuckers eyes. Earning him a grunt of pain and the hands at his neck loosening. He takes that opening and surges forward, head knocking against Jed's chin. Hot blood splashes on his face as he shoves the freak off him and stumbles to his feet, backing away over the white median separating the two lanes. 

Blood gushes from the mans busted lip as he rises to his full height, it drips onto the asphalt below. Frank is breathing heavily, out of anger and the desperate need to be the apex fucking predator in this shit show. He sees his knife laying a meter away from the man. Too far out of reach to be any good. He looks down the road, and sees headlights approaching. When he fixes his eyes back on Jed he had silently moved closer, his full attention on Frank and not on the road. He doesn't even blink when the headlights of the semi illuminate half of his face. A predator so transfixed in the hunt it doesn't notice the trap at its feet. Frank lunges forward, shoving the man with all his strength and forcing them off the road and onto the shoulder. His hand scrapes painfully on the loose stones as he tries to sit up, now halfway in Jed's lap. Frank wasn't prepared to get more blood on his hands in his first few days in America. 

"Oh." The man says softly, hot wind of the passing truck ruffling their clothing. A hand grips his hair and slams his head into the side of the car. Frank's world goes black in an instant.


	3. Hostage Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again, vibing

"...My buddy here had too much to drink. It's his 21st." 

Frank blinks and tries to lift his head only for sharp pain to radiate through the left half of his face. Its brighter outside which isn't a good sign. 

"Oh, you good Jamie?" The man says with a laugh. It makes his blood boil. 

Evey inch of his body was sore and felt like static. It took everything in him to wrench his damn eyes open. He tries to ask the officer for help, for the first and last time hopefully, but only manages a pained grunt which could be passed off as a hungover fuck just woken up. He tries to move his arms only to see them bound in front of him, his feet are also tightly tied together. Panic surges through him at the realization that he was at the mercy of this weird fucker. Frank musters all his strength and manages to twitch a little. Something was fucking wrong and he didn't know what. 

"Happy birthday kid, you two drive safe. It's been real dangerous down here." The cop says before pushing away amd walking off. 

"Fuck." Frank manages to push out just when its too late. 

"Watch the language there." The man says, forcefully ruffling Frank's hair. 

"Fuck you." He slurs out, sitting up and immeditly pitching forward. Only stopped by the seatbelt he was wearing, "What did you do to me?" 

"Drugged you a bit, not too much. You shouldn't be hungover too bad. Names Conrad by the by." 

It takes him a bit to process that information, mostly due to his throbbing head and sore joints. This freak, drugged him and tied him up in the car. After he had stolen it of course. 

"You're names Jed." He forces out, "You talked to me earlier." Frank shifts in his seat and leans his head against the headrest. He hears Jed shift and looks over, watching him unscrew the cap of a water bottle before holding it over to him. He stares at is suspiciously. 

"It'll make you feel better. Nothin's in it, I promise." 

"Untie my hands." 

"No." 

"I'm not drinking water from you like a fucking baby." 

Jed shrugs and takes a sip from the water bottle before capping it and setting it aside. Frank glares at him before closing his eyes. Trying to focus on not feeling like shit, which is a monumental task. He thinks about last night, running through the events and trying to figure out what the fuck to do now. No one was going to come looking for him. Maybe Julie or Joey but they'd never be able to make it to the states anytime soon. Besides he didn't even know if he was still in Florida, or how long he had been out. It couldn't have been more than a few hours, right? 

"What did you give me?" 

"Rohypnol. You woke up while I was tying your legs so I forced it down your throat. You probably don't remember." Jed replies casually. 

First time roofied and he wasn't even at a party. He had to play it safe, this guy was obviously a psychopath and he didn't want to get his body dumped on the side of the road in fuck all nowhere America. His best bet was to play along to what he wanted. Frank was good at talking his way out of shit anyway. He glances down at the knots binding his hands and tugs at them. Guy must've been a boyscout since they looked pretty damn professional. Different knots seemed to bind his wrists and ankles, the ones at his feet had enough slack for him to walk. His wrists were bound much tighter, and flexing his hands doesn't so much as budge the ropes. He does at least awkwardly maneuver his hands to unclip his seatbelt. 

Frank looks over at his captor, in the daylight. He squints, trying to see past the busted lip and dark eyes for a smidgen of mercy. Jed must feel the weight of Frank's stare as he glances over and smiles. 

"Stop fucking ignoring me you asshole. I remember you from yesterday, Jed. My fucking foster dad saw you." 

The words slip out before he can stop himself. He might've been able to use that knowledge to his advantage instead of squandering it. Jed laughs at that, bringing a hand up to scratch his chin and shrug. Frank hated how at ease the man was, hated the fact that the man wasn't at least a little worried he might escape. 

"Hmm? What's wrong with Conrad? You can call me Jed if really like that better. Didn't think you recognized me, don't tell me I made a good impression." says with a wink. Frank hopes the look on his face conveys how disgusted he was, "And your foster dad didn't see shit." 

"Are you even a real reporter? You act more like a homeless psycho." He hisses, squirming in his seat now that his body was starting to feel under his control. 

He can tell that annoyed Jed a little bit since the mans brows furrow and his shoulders tense under his tshirt. 

"Big words for a mediocre carjacker." 

"Big fucking words for a jackass that sleeps in an unlocked car. Isn't there a big bad serial killer on this loose in this shit hole?" 

The man starts to laugh. It's a small one at first before evolving into a loud mocking giggle. He watches Jed lean back in his seat with a big sigh before throwing him another glance. The smug expression on his stupid fucking face made Frank see red. 

"You really don't have any idea who I am?" Jed says, seeming to reveal in Frank's ignorance. 

He stares the man down and shakes his head firmly. 

"I'm the serial killer on the loose, buddy. I'm the Ghostface." 

Frank snorts, which no doubt annoys Jed. He pretends to hold his laughter back, watching the mans grip tighten on the steering wheel. 

"If you were that serial killer, Ghostwhatever, I'd be dead already. Not drugged and tied up in your front seat bud. All you're gonna do is rape me and dump my fucked body on the side of the freeway like the shitty little bastared you are." 

Jed calmly presses the hazard light on the dashboard and slows the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road. So much for playing it safe, now he was going to get left for dead sooner rather than later. He puts the car in park and turns to look at Frank, his expression seemed calm. His eyes were utterly blank. The same look of undivided attention from last night that had graced his bloody features. That made Frank's heart beat faster in fear and excitment. He twists in his seat, putting his back against the door and pulling his knees to his chest so he can kick the man if it comes to that. Despite small tugs of fear bubbling inside him he smirks at having the psychos undivided attention. Any attetion was good attention after all. 

"Cuttin' to the chase already?" He mocks, pushing harder against the door as Jed leans closer. He can smell the last traces of some cheap cologne waft off the man. 

"I'm not going to do that to you." He says, voice low and almost calming, "It would be so boring to kill you so fast, especially after what you did. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not ungrateful." 

Frank frowns, if he wasn't confused before he was confused now. He edges closer grabbing the ropes holding his wrists together and wrenching his arms up over his head. They hit the roof of the car and Frank starts to struggle against his grip. 

"And I don't kill good for nothing trash like you." He adds, leaning in so close Frank can feel the puffs of his breath against his cheek, "They'll find your body in a ditch and leave it to scavengers for how much you fucking matter." 

The words strike a sore spot in Frank's ego that he didn't know he had. He stops struggling to stare into the deep brown eyes boring into him and can't bring himself to feel anger at the words. Deep down he knew it was true. No one here would know or care about him. Only three people would even give a fuck about him up in Ormond. Car psycho was right, and he fucking hated it. 

"So what then?" Frank asks, managing to keep his voice steady, "You're just gonna drag me around with you? Think a tied up person in your car won't raise a few eyebrows?" 

"Isn't this what you wanted when you stole my car? A thrill?" 

"This isn't what I would call thrilling." He deadpans back. 

Jed's free hand rises and rests on Frank's chest, it was colder than it had anyright to be. Seeming to pierce through the thin t-shirt like the icey winds of home. He almost shivers. 

"Your hearts racing." Its his voice that makes him shiver. Low and seductive and stiring a very inappropriate emotion in him for the situation. He swallows, attempting to hide his sudden nervs with a cold glare. Jed meets his gaze with an intense and emotionless stare. 

"Are you scared?" 

It was hard to say. Frank was definitely on edge, a little frightened, but scared? Not by a long shot. It took more than words to scare him. 

"No." 

Jed's fingers dig into his chest ever so slightly before he pulls away, releasing Frank's bound hands. The man wordlessly puts the car into drive and merges back into traffic. Frank doesn't feel like he had won that little stand off, especially when he maneuvers himself back into a sitting position and has to deal with the slight stiffie he had gotten. Way to seem menecing. Jed hadn't seemed to noticed it at least. 

He sits in sullen silence for three exits, at least he knew they were heading north. Jed hadn't so much as shifted in the past hour, barely seeming to breath. As casually as he can with bound hands he reaches over and turns on the radio, idly flipping through channels until settling on some top fourty station and not whatever was in the tape player 

"...Thank you for tuning into 104.3 AM, Lake City radio. It's time for our lunchtime add free hour, take a lunch. It's on us." 

The chipper voice of the host fades as Creep starts to play. At least now he knew the time. It was hard to imagine he had been out for more than a night so it was most likely the next day. Frank looks out the window, examining the bruises on the left side of his face from last night. He looks at the palm of his hand to find the scrape had also been cleaned up. The list of question continues to grow in his mind, making his temples throb. He felt utterly exaughsted, but not tired enough to fall asleep. This wasn't what he was expecting when Clive cut him loose, not by a fucking long shot. 

"How are you feeling." Jed asks suddenly. 

"Like shit." 

"What's you're name?" Jed says, "Tell me yours I'll tell you mine." 

Frank looks at Jed and then out the window at the passing trees. He doesn't want to introduce himself to this psycho. 

"Joey." 

"Well Frank my name is Danny." 

He narrows his eyes at Jed- Danny in anger. Being lead on made his damn blood boil more than being caught in a lie. Of course this asshole already knew his name, he was being toyed with. But as annoyed as he was he did prefer the name Danny to Jed. 

"Where'd you get Frank from Joey?" 

"Went through your stuff. Read your passport. Cute friends by the way, Joey's the other guy." 

Frank stiffens at that comment. He wasn't worried for the legions safety as much as he was worried about loosing the photo. Gritting his teeth he does his best not to show any reaction. 

"How old are you in your passport photo?" Danny continues, "Eighteen?" 

"Yeah." 

Danny hums thoughtfully, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, "Have you always had that tongue piercing." 

He doesn't respond to that question. Whatever sick game Danny was playing he was done. He got a name abd that's all he wanted. 

"You ever sucked cock since you got it?" 

His stomach churns in a sudden mixture of excitement and anxiety at the sudden disgusting comment. But he manages to hide any emotion. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." He replies, turning ever so slightly to stick his tongue out. Danny visibly twitches at the action. 

There was nothing he loved more than riling people up, especially when they were attracted to him. If Danny was going to make passes at for his stupid little mind games the fucker deserved to be blue balled. 

"I would, but you don't have to tell me. I'll leave it to my imagination." 

Frank snorts, "You're a real sick fuck." 

"I know." 

He was starting to feel more comfortable with the situation, not safe of course he wasn't stupid. If this man was going to hurt him serioisly he would have already, or he was saving the beatings for later. It was hard to get a read on Danny, the guy acted so eccentric he was starting to think he was mentally unstsble in more ways than one. Frank sits up and looks into the backseat. He sees his bag all zipped up like Danny didn't dig through it. Two larger duffle bags also sat in the backseat that must belong Danny. One was unzipped and he could see a camera, black nylon straps and ropes sticking out with a big combat knife in a sheath. A flash of white catches his eye and he looks down at a mask laying on the floor. 

It looked like that one old painting he had seen a few times. The white was slightly tarnished by smudges of rusty brown streaked across the surface. He recognized it as dried blood. Frank sits back in his seat and resists the urge to look at Danny. Guy wasn't lying about the killer shit. He wishes he had actually paid attention to that news station on T.V. when they ran that story. The most he knew was that the Ghostface moved around a lot, and always left a gruesome crime scene. Frank could always tell when someone wanted attention, and this guy wants it bad. 

"So whats Ghostface's deal?" Frank asks, "How does he usually kill people?" 

"Oh I make it hurt." Danny says, not bothering to play along with Frank's what ifs, "Not physically, though it's part of it, I like to watch them run and cower in fear when they realize there's no escape. People eat that shit up, knowing that they suffer so much before they die, and knowing that I'm still out there watching them." 

As the man speaks his voice drops to a low growl, as if savoring every word as he recounts his crimes. In that moment Frank doesn't doubt that the man is a killer. 

"Fine, let's say you are the Ghostface," Frank starts, earning an amused hum from Danny, "How does kidnapping some Canadian tourist no one cares about adding to your image at all? I'd get it if I was a pretty blonde girl the press would eat that shit up, but I ain't. Are you even gonna kill me, pussy?" 

Danny glances at him briefly, cold eyes hungry and deranged. He looks at Frank like he wants to eat him alive. 

"I'm not doing this for anyone else but me. You're mine alone." 

Adrenaline surges through his body. Frank isn't one to lie down and take whatever Danny had planned for him. He would fight until he killed this fucker or died trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapyer is just thar tiktok audio thats like "okay we're here, just sitting in the car."


	4. Escape Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short but next chapter is gonna be longer

"I gotta piss." Frank says, watching the sunset out the window with as much awe as observing a pile of shit. He was getting cramps from being forced to sit all day with already limited mobility. He was also hungry but that was a different story. 

"There's a welcome center coming up." Danny replies, switching lanes "Stretch our legs a bit." 

He grunts in response as Danny gets on the exit to the stop. A square building with an empty parking strip, along with an obnoxious welcome to florida sign. A few vending machines slouched behind the glass doors, and no one was around to help. Figures. Danny pulls into a spot and gets out. Frank tries to open his door only to find the handle was completely broken, stopping him from throwing himself into traffic probably. He waits impatiently for Danny to open the door from the outside and steps out. His bones pop painfully and he grunts. Stretching as best he could through the bindings and rolling his shoulders. He looks over at Danny, who was silently staring at him. 

"What?" He snaps. 

"You're very pale." Danny comments. Voice innocent as his eyes running over Frank's body almost hungrily. It makes his skin prickle. 

"No shit." He snears and attempts to push past Danny, who steps out of the way with annoying grace. 

His feet catch on the ropes and he stumbles, almost falling flat until Danny catches his arm and pulls him up. 

"Want me to untie those?" Danny asks, uncomfortably warm hand trailing down his bare arm. 

"Sure." He grumbles, deciding not to be stupid and fight the slight freedom Danny offered. He could use to his advantage later. 

The man smiles and kneels down, Frank watches his hands deftly untie the knots and wrap the rope up into a tight bundle. When Danny looks up and winks at him its impossible to hold back a scoff and rolls his eyes. He walks towards the washrooms. Hus palms had been sweating in anticipation since Danny stopped the car. 

A few hours back the man had taken a particuarly sharp left turn, and his lighter had slid out from under the seat. The freak had emptied his pockets while he had been out, obviously, but he didn't do a good job putting everything away. Frank had grabbed the zippo and slide it into his sneaker when it happened, pretending to roll the window down to mask the action. Now all he had to do was get in a stall and burn his ropes off. Danny already untied his feet for him. He flexes his hands in excitment. It isn't until he awkwardly jiggles the handle to the mens washroom he sees the sign. 

'Out of Order.' 

"Fuck." He hisses to the chorus of Danny's boots scraping the concrete behind him as he follows. 

"Isn't the end of the world buddy, women's is open." Danny says, pushing the door open and holding it for Frank. 

Thats good, actually. Give's him a reason to go into a stall instead of using a urinal. He marches past Danny and heads to the handicap stall, kicking it open with a loud and satifying bang. When he turns to lock it Danny had already slipped inside with him, closing the door and sliding the lock in place. 

"The fuck are you doin?" He growls, glaring at Danny as the man crosses his arms and leans against the wall. 

"What's it look like?" The man replies with a smile, "Can't let you wiggle out of those ropes now can I?" 

Fuck, that puts a real damper on his plans. He bites his lip, thinking of a way to salvage his escape and fast. With a theatrical sigh he pulls his arms in and looks at his shoes like Susie would. 

"I can't piss in front of others." He lies. 

Danny cocks his head, big eyes boring into Frank with no mercy. Like he was trying to figure out the best way to peel the flesh off his bones. 

"Too bad." He says with a shrug, "Either go now or get back in the car. 

Frank stares at him, dumbfounded. 

"Get the fuck out!" 

"No." 

"I'll literally piss in your car if you don't get out." 

Danny shrugs at the threat, "Do it then. I've made people do worse, won't bother me." 

Watching his clever plan fall apart because some perverted psycho was really starting to wear on his patience. And since entering the stall he suddenly had to go a lot more than before. Danny starts whistling a tuneless song and Frank makes one final request. 

"Can you at least turn around?" He grumbles, putting a show of dejectedly walking to the toilet. 

"Hmm, fine. If it makes you go faster." 

Danny turns his back to Frank, facing the wall and gently tapping his foot. Frank quickly stoops to pull the lighter out of his shoes. He shuffles a bit to get it into postion, and unzip his pants as he flicks it open. 

The sound of the zippo was painfully sharp to his ears, but Danny's whistling seems to have drowned out the noises. First things first was getting his dick out to piss and mask the sound of the ropes burning. Carefully he holds the zippo in his right hand and aims with his left. There's an intense pain in his wrist at the strain, made worse when the flame licks the skin. He holds back a hiss and clenchs the lighter between his thumb and forefingers, pressing the flame against the ropes. The pain is intense as the flame hits his tender wrist as much as it burns the rope away. He watches the rope begin to fray as he finishes up and zips up his pants. He watches intently as the strands of the rope become weaker and weaker. 

"That must really hurt." Danny whispers, low and husky voice right next to his ear. He jumps and drops the lighter to the ground. It clatters and the flame flickers out. 

A rough hand grabs his shoulder and spins him around. Another hand grips his throat and digs his fingers in. The nails cut into his skin and he feels blood drip down his neck. Danny looks at the floor and he follows his gaze only to watch him kick the lighter away. It skids out of sight into another stall. Frank pulls his hands apart, feeling the bindings have more slack than usual. If he had just a little longer with the lighter he might be able to snap them. 

"I have been very fucking nice to you, Frank." Danny whispers. For the first time Frank senses rage in the mans voice that doesn't match the dead expression. 

"You have me tied up in your fucking car." He hisses back. 

"And guess what, buddy. You could be tied up in my fucking trunk without you tongue or fingers." Danny shoots back, grip on his neck tightning again to emphasize his point, "But you weren't. I let you sit in the front seat like a good boy, pick the songs on the radio. I was even gonna let you pick where we eat." 

Frank grits his teeth, hiding his pain and glaring steadily. Danny had leaned forward during his tirade, Frank could now see the intense dark circles under the crazed eyes. He tugs harder on the ropes in desperation. The movement causes Danny to look down at his hands, and Frank hears a gentle intake of breath. The hand at his throat loosens. 

"I get it Franky. You're a free spirit, some punk ass shit head who doesn't follow rules. I get it, I really do. Who am I to divert a river, y'know?" Danny laughs breathlessly and smiles at Frank. The sight makes his stomach churn. 

The hand at his shoulder moves, and he watches Danny pull a knife out from a sheath behind his back. Frank tenses, too proud to beg for his life as Danny lifts the knife...and cuts the ropes. His hands falls to his side and his shoulders crack loudly. Danny releases his throat and steps back, bringing the bloody fingers to his face. Frank watches in as Danny licks the blood off his index finger. 

"Run then." Danny says, "I'll give you a head start." 

"How much of a head start?" Frank sneers, not wanting to look like a pussy. 

"Thirty seconds. I'd make the most of it." 

Frank bolts past Danny to the stall door, thudding against it before remembering the lock. He pulls the bolt and runs out, kicking the door to the bathroom open and racing to the car. All in less than six seconds. Obviously Danny thought that his smoking habit had ruined his lungs, but he was on varsity for a reason. Five minute miles are his speciality. He yanks open the door and jumps in the front seat, dropping the sunshade down for the keys. 

Nothing falls, and Frank stares in shock for a second at the empty sunshade. Fuck. Fuck! Of course Danny had them. He looks around the empty travel stop wildly, there was nothing for miles. Maybe he could grab his bag and run as fast as he can into the trees. Hide a bit and then hitch a ride north? Other serial killers be dammed. He reaches in the back and grabs his bag, stumbling out of the car and slinging it over his shoulder. Begore he can run towards the trees an arm wraps around his neck and he's pulled into Danny's chest. Frank starts to thrash wildly as pressure intensifies around his tender neck. 

"Fuck you! I...still have...fifteen seconds..." Frank chokes out, desperately gasping for air as the corners of his vision go dark. 

"Oh Franky, I love the chase the most but only when its a furtive one." Danny whispers as he blacks out for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want yall to know this place is based of my favorite and mostly cryptic welcome center in coldwater michigan we always stop at when goin north. I did a bunch of research only to find florida ones got bitches in them, like alive bitches. Wack.


	5. Hotel California

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwight lore comes out today im PUMPED

Frank opens his eyes, and is met with a ceiling. That was good. Better than being in a car. He closes his eyes again and takes a few moments to collect himself. He needed to stop ending his days being knocked out, it must be bad for his health in some way. At least he didn't have a pounding headache, and he was laying in a comfy bed. He can hear water running to his right, there was a hum of an air conditioning unit to his left, local news playing on t.v at a low volume, and the sound of crickets outside. 

So it was late, and he was in some sort of hotel room. Good to know. Best he can gather after Danny choked him out he was roofied again then found a place to stop for the night. This guy really wasn't going to kill him quickly. 

Frank opens his eyes and sits up. His feet and hands weren't tied. Danny had taken off his shoes too. The pain at his neck flares up as something rubs against the fresh scabs and bruises. He reaches up and runs his fingers over a cool chain around his neck. There was a heavy ring on the front and longer small gauge metal chain attached to the ring. He tugs on the brutal necklace a bit to no avail before reaching around to feel a small but sturdy padlock on the back. Turning he sees the rest of the chain disappearing under the bed. He tugs on it and figures that it must be attached to the bed frame itself. He couldn't move without making a fuckton of noise. On the bright side there was a lot of chain for him to work with, at least fifteen metres of slack. He could walk to the window if he wanted to, but not out the door. Frank rubs his eyes and lets out a groan, he hated being utterly fucked. 

"The Ghostface killer recently buchered a victim in her own home. Martha Andrews was a normal woman, in her mid seventies and well loved by her neighbors..." The t.v drones, catching Frank's attention. He looks up to see a photo of an old woman on the screen. 

"On the night of the 25th Ms. Andrew's was going to have a normal night in, cooking a single dinner and watch a favorite show. It was around then that she was attacked." 

Another sound penetrates the air, grinding and metallic. It comes from the washroom, replacing the sound if running water. 

"The Ghostface killer stabbed her over fifteen times after chasing her through the house and into the kitchen. Authorities found her three days later after a neighbor called in a wellness check." 

The dull scraping echos throught the room again. Frank slowly rises from the bed, the creaks are mostly drowned out by the t.v. but the chain rings loud enough to make him wince. 

"The wounds on her body were inflicted with three separate kitchen knives, and two knitting needles that were protruding from her eye sockets. Police are hot on the trail of the killer, and insure the public that this will be the last attack." 

His hand hovers over the handle to the washroom. Knocking was probably the way to go, right? He didn't want to walk in on Danny jacking off. Another metallic scrape rings clear and Frank decides not to be a fucking pussy and opens the door. Steam wafts out of the room in a wave. Danny doesn't so much as glance as him from the tub. He drags a whetstone across the blade he was holding, staring at the knife intensely as he does so. Frank feels extremely fucking uncomfortable. He had gotten the picture that Danny was a freak but this entire situation felt like a scene from Silence of the Lambs, and a bad one. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Frank blurts out. Danny runs the whetstone over the other side of the blade, and finally looks up. 

"Soaking." Danny replies, "You wanna join or what?" 

Frank snears at him despite the heat immedietly rising to his face, "Fuck no." 

"You could use a shower, y'know?" Danny says, unfazed by Frank's insults, "You smell like a teenager after gym class." 

That was probably true. All he had done in this shitty state was sweat and almost piss himself At least this shit hole room had an good A.C unite. Frank looks back into the main room, noticing one of Danny's duffle bag and his own sitting next to it. At least he had a change of clothing for when he did shower. The chain at his neck rubs painfully against the still fresh scabs when he moves, the lightweight steel clinking together annoyingly loud. 

"What's the deal with this?" Frank asks, holding up the teather. Danny lets out a long suffering sigh and sinks lower in the water, staring at the roof as if it were the cause of his woes. 

"You're a smart guy, Frank. You tell me." The man dead pans. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, am I fucking bothering you?" Frank mocks, "The guy you kidnapped has a fucking attitude problem? What a damm shock." 

Danny stands from the tub with a splash and marches across the bathroom with suprsing speed right into his personal space. Wet hands grip his shirt, hot water soaking through the fabric. He can feel heat radiating off Danny's body and he resistes the urge to look down. Instead backing away as much as his shirt would allow, only for Danny to step forward and force him back. He hits the opposite wall with a thud. Danny presses his forehead against Frank's, and he can feel the mans breath on his lips. Warm water slides down his cheek. 

"You're so damn lucky, Frank." Danny whispers, voice creeping down Frank's back like a spider "Lucky you're my type, and lucky you're a killer. I wouldn't put up with this from just anybody." 

Frank's breath catches in his throat. Danny couldn't know that. Shouldn't know that. The mans wet hands release his shirt, creeping up to gently cup his cheeks. They're so hot from the water Frank flinches as if they burn. Danny forcefully tilts Frank's head down and pressee a disgustingly gentle kiss to his forehead. 

"There's food for you in the minifridge." Danny says, whisper switching from a threatening growl to what he can only describe as loving. The sudden change in personality makes his stomach twist. Danny pats his cheek, pulling away and shutting the door gently in Frank's face without another word. 

He stares at the wood in stunned silence, listening to the splash of water as Danny gets back in the tub. Frank slides down the wall and to the floor, taking slow deep breaths. Danny was just fucking with him. He had to be. No one knows what happened in Ormond expect Legion. Especially some American shit head serial killer. It was all a sick game. One he knew all the rules to. It wasn't like he was a stranger to this kind of manipulation, saying he was a killer in order for him to admit it himself. It would never work on him. Frank stands and glares at the door with a renewed sense of righteous fury at the man behind it. 

"You got my socks wet." 

Danny snickers from behind the door, and Frank takes that as having last word in their altercation, which means he wins. With that victory he marches away from the door and opens the mini fridge to see two Chinese take containers and bottled water. Can't say Danny did nothing for him. Grabbing the containers, bottles and a fork he sits on the bed before opening one. Fried rice, jackpot. He digs in, looking at the television to see the local news was still playing. Boring. A cursory glance around the room doesn't reveal the location of the remote to change the channel to anything else. Probably hidden away from him as a part of Danny's sick jokes. He sets aside the empty rice box and grabs the other box, popping it open and sighing in frustation. The washroom door opens and Danny steps out, thankfully more clothed than before. 

"How's the food?" Danny asks, tossing the towel back into the washhroom. 

"I'm allergic to peanuts." Frank says, underhand tossing the box of peanut garnished chicken onto the minifridge. 

"Ah shit, really?" Danny sighs and looks at the clock on bedside table, "I guess I can run out and grab you something else?" 

"Sure." 

Danny walks over to the duffle bag and pulls out a few lengths of rope about a half meter long each. Frank stares at it suspiciously as Danny turns to him. 

"Don't look at me like that. I can't risk you screaming or getting yourself outside." 

Frank jumps up off the bed, putting distance between him and Danny, "Fuck no. Get the hell away from me." 

Danny laughs and tosses the ropes back onto his bag, "Alright, alright, don't panic. We can get more food in the morning." 

He glares at Danny, edging around the bed towards his bag. Frank can feel the dark eyes on him as he digs through the bag and pulls out another set of clothing to change into. Unfortunately all he had to wear besides the clothes in his back was ripped jeans, a second shirt, sone socks and boxers. He should have packed way more, he was allowed two fucking carry on's anyway. During his digging his pocket knife and lighter were missing, obviously, but when he doesn't feel the money his blood boils. He turns to see Danny smiling at him and wordlessly stomps past towards the washroom, his attempt to slam the door is ruined by the literal fucking leash. No point in asking Danny to free him, instead he yanks a two meters of chain into the washroom. Forcing the chain under the door as he slams it. 

The room was soaked and the mirror fogged up from Danny's bath. He drops the bundle of clothing on the toilet tank and wipes off the mirror to get a good look at his injuries for the first time in two days. There were bruises covering the left half of his face were a nasty yellow while his neck was a mix of red and purple sploches dotted with five shallow cuts. Frank grabs the hem of his shirt and attemps to take it off before hitting the first roadblock. Time to submit again. 

"Danny I can't take my fucking shirt off." 

A laugh sounds from the other room and after a few moments the door opens. Danny moved silently, really befits the title Ghost. 

"Turn around and be a good boy for me, okay?" 

Frank complies, turning to face the wall and holding back a sigh. Warm fingers run across his shoulders slowly before he hears the padlock click open and the weight of the chain falls away. He lets out a small sigh and pulls his shirt off, dropping it to the ground before unbuttoning his pants. The oppressive warmth of Danny's body makes his skin crawl. 

"Are you gonna put it back on or what?" 

"Not yet, I want to put some bandages on those." Danny replies, gently tracing a finger over the cuts on his neck, "They're not going to heal fast without sone help." 

Frank shivers and tenses as Danny's fingers trail down his spine before moving to stop on hips above his jeans. There's a shift of fabric and Danny rests his forehead on Frank's shoulder. He can feel the mans damp hair brush his neck, it smelled like plain soap. A far cry from the heavy cologn he had been smelling for most of the day. It had been a long time since he felt the touch of another like this. There was a certain level of comfort he could draw from it, a confort that only comes from the touch of another human. 

"Let me go." It comes out as barely a whisper. 

"Hmm?" 

He clears his throat, determined to not show more weakness than he already had, "Get the fuck out and let me shower." 

Danny nods against his shoulder and pulls away. The chain collar clinks in his hand as he walks out, closing the door behind him. Frank lets out a breath and finishes undressing. Ignoring the brief moment of weakness. The water is cool against his skin and he sighs. This was such a fucking nightmare. He didn't even know what day it was anymore, not that it was important but it still sucked. Frank runs his fingers through his hair and thinks as the water runs over him. 

Escaping wasn't an option right now. Danny was pulling out all the stops. Giving up was far from his nature, but he wasn't going to get away from this fucker by testing his patience over and over. If he was too much of a nuisance Danny would make like a psycho and kill him. Most wouldn't expect it of him but Frank can play docile, he can even play fucking nice. At least until Danny was confidant that he wasn't going to test an escape. This was life or death now. What little morals and all his pride had to go out the window. All that mattered now was living, and making sure Danny suffered for deciding to fuck with him. It's not like anyone else was bearing witness to this nightmare but him. 

He turns the shower off and steps out, drying off and dressing in his spare shirt and boxers. Being clean made him feel much better, free of dirt, dried sweat and blood. He leaves his dirty clothes scattered on the ground and opens the door. Glancing over to see Danny staring at the door from the rolling desk chair. He smiles and Frank sucks up his pride and looks away bashfully. 

"Come here." Danny says, grabbing a box off the table and moving to the bed. 

Frank obeys, sitting on the edge and watching Danny open a well stocked first aid kit. The man motions him closer and he scoots in, allowing the man to take his hand and apply cool burn cream to the red swelling on his wrist. The burn was thankfully pretty small and the pain from it had been lost in the mountain of aches that had been inflicted on him in the past few hours. Danny presses a large bandaid to the area before moving upward. Frank tilts his head to allow him to apply neosporin to the cuts and put on a few bandaids. Unsurprisingly once he presses on the last bandaid Frank feels the weight of the chain return as Danny clicks the lock into place. 

"You're welcome." Danny says in response to Frank's sullen silence, putting the excess bandaids and ointments back in the box. 

He rolls his eyes and crawls over to the side of the bed he woke up on and leans against the head board. Danny sits back at the desk, putting on a pair of headphones. He can hear a pen scratching against paper as Danny scrawled something down. 7It might be possible to stay up and get the key off of Danny eventually. Although he had a feeling the guy wouldn't make it that easy. Danny knew that he was going to try to escape and wouldn't leave himself open. 

"How'd you get me here." 

"Carried you." 

"Oh I doubt that. Your skinny ass carried me up a flight of steps?" Frank snorts, watching Danny lean back in the chair and spin to face him. 

"I'm much stronger than I look." 

Frank rolls his eyes, "And no one found it weird that you checked in and brought an unconscious guy up with you to your room?" 

"I told them it was our honey moon and you were tired from all the crazy rough sex we had." Danny replies with a shrug, "Think she believed it too." 

His face heats up at those words, "Shut the fuck up. Don't tell people that shit you sicko. Men can't even fet fucking married." 

"Aww c'mon Franky we make a cute couple!" Danny coos in a fake loving voice, "Don't make me delete the photos I took." 

Photos? Frank doesn't remember any photos being taken, at least well he was concious. The thought of Danny having pictures of him while he was unconsious wasn't a kind one. The man watches him closely, eyes taking in every action Frank makes. Calculating the best way to use it against him. Fucker was just bluffing about photos to watch him squirm. Never had Frank met someone like this. Who could watch, learn, and adjust themselves to match whatever shit they were tryin' to pull so seamlessly. Danny could be the bite of steel or the comforting hand in a moments notice. 

Someone like himself. 

Just looking at Danny reminded him of a fun house mirror. A reflection that was warped and twisted yet at the core still a reflection. 

The revelation wasn't horrifying to him, not like it probably should be. Here he was, looking a serial killer right in the face and thinking about how they're the same. Any normal person would feel sick. Danny had seen it first, maybe when he talked to him with the anole, or was watching him in the back seat for who knows how long. Or in the road with the semi truck bearing down. Danny had seen what Frank was just now noticing. 

Did he see a funhouse mirror, or was it the opposite? Looking out from a fucked up mind and seeing normalcy. 

No, not that. Danny had known. He read between the lines of his entire existance and he had figured out that he wasn't just some random punk stealing cars for fun. The guy had some weird sixth sense that told him to take him. Something was driving Danny to keep him alive and relatively unharmed. 

What did Danny have planned? Cart him across the states while he continues on a his killing spree? It was so stupid and risky, and Danny obviously wasn't stupidcenough to do that. There was an ulterior motive, a plan for him specifically. 

Did he wanna twist Frank into a little fun house mirror? Make him some serial killer protègè? 

Or did he just want someone to fuck and torture on his off hours? 

Danny rises from the chair, walking towards the bed and clicking the nightstand lamp off. The dim glow of the TV was the only light source now, casting shadows over half of the man's figure. Frank stares up at him still, more lost in thought than attempting to assert some kind of dominance. The man takes the remote from the inside of the nightstand to turn off the tv set before pulling the covers back and lays in bed next to him. Slowly Frank moves, chain and lock clicking together as he lays down. Pulling the covers over his legs and staring into the darkness above. He lays still for a long time, eventually closing his eyes and waiting for the blanket of real sleep to cover him. 

In the pitch dark of the room he can hear Danny's steady breathing, and he knows the man isn't asleep. That his dark eyes were fixed onto the back of Frank's head as he slips away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: is it creepier for danny to be fully clothed or naked  
> Her, who hates ghostfrank: clothed  
> Me: god ur so smart. He will ne naked for horny purposes.  
> Her: thank god.


	6. Unlisted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones for u ImmanuelCunt

The ground is frozen, no snow just cold dark earth that doesn't budge without a fight. He plunges the shovel into the shallow ditch that equated to three hours of labour. He was sweating. 

"We can't do this." 

"It's takeing too long to dig a hole we should just..." 

He jumps on the shovel, forcing the steel tip deeper into the earth. It still pulls up barely any dirt. The others don't matter. Nothing matters now except to dig. Just dig until it fits. Six feet under is too much on frozen ground. Only two would work just as well. Or one and half. Just enough to cover the body. Just enough to put it out of sight. 

"Frank?" The whisper breaks through his mind and he opens his eyes. 

Danny was staring at him, crouched next to the bed with a warm hand on his shoulder. Frank sits up, chain ringing as he does. Sweat had collected on his skin in a thin sheen. The memory blissfully slips away quickly. He wipes his palms on the sheets and looks around. Same hotel room, different lighting. The alarm clock read 10:30. 

"You okay? Bad dreams?" Danny presses, rising from his crouch to sit on the foot of the bed. He had a coffee cup in his hand. 

"Like you care." Frank sneers before a yawn cuts him off. Getting actual sleep felt a lot better than being unwillingly knocked out and roofied. 

"I do." 

He stares down Danny, glaring at the mock sincerity in the mans expression. The man holds the cup out as an offering. Frank takes it and sips cautiously. On the bitter side but it helped the caffine headache. 

"We can go get breakfast now! The continental here sucks, we can go out and get pancakes. You people love that stuff right?" 

"Racist." 

"It's not really racism. I mean we're both white guys so its just sterotyping." Danny laughs and looks at Frank expectantly. 

He ignores the piercing stare and gets out of bed. It had been a long time since he ate and he was starting to feel the hunger pangs. Not an unfamiliar sensation unfortunately. 

"What?" He asks as he pulls on his jeans. 

Danny shrugs, unabashed staring undeterred. The dark circles under his eyes looked heavier than before. Did the guy sleep at all last night? Probably not. Frank looks away from the prying eyes, turning his attention to the TV. It was the news again, talking about the weather or some shit. 

"Are we still in Florida?" He asks as he laces up his best up sneakers. 

"Nope, left that state in the dust yesterday. In Georgia now." 

"Sounds fake. Full offense you got too many states." 

"Doesn't really matter that much, buddy." Danny says with a shrug, walking towards Frank and reaching for the chain. 

"Where are we heading?" 

The question makes Danny smile at him fondly. He didn't like that. 

"Ooh I dunno. North? Might start heading West. Depends." 

"North is good. It's too hot down here." Frank offers, standing still as the man unlocks the padlock. 

Danny seemed to like it when Frank implied them traveling together. It was better to play into that for now. He had to interact with Danny just right, the man wasn't afraid to use force but he enjoyed a little bit of a fight. Which Frank was happy to give him as long as he wasn't getting roofied or knocked out. 

"Whatcha want?" Danny asks, grabbing Frank's upper arm in a shockingly strong grip and leading him to the door. 

"Uh.." He mumbles, trying to think of what they had down here. It wasn't often he got fast food from anywhere. 

While he was thinking Danny shoves him into the hall. Frank almost looses his balance until Danny pulls him up, fingers still locked tight around his arm. As much as he wants yank his arm back its not a smart move. All he can do his grit his teeth a bear it. 

"Okay Franky I'm gonna ask you to follow some rules, can you do that for me?" Danny says, pressing the call button on the elevator. 

"I'll see, eh?" Frank replies as the elevator dings. They step in with a man in a suit, cutting Danny off from his rules. 

He watches the man stare at the doors and wonders if he could figure out a way to get help. A hand grips his hair and yanks his head, forcing him to stare ahead at the doors. Glaring at the doors doesn't make him feel better, and when they open a women with a teenage soon catch the brunt of it as Danny quickly moves him out and towards the door. 

"If you start to act up I'll hold your hand." Danny says, forcing him into the front seat of the car. 

"Oh wow that really scares me." Frank huffs as Danny starts the car and pulls out. 

"Oh I know. Do you want McDonald's?" 

"Whatever." 

"...there's a play place in it." 

Frank feels his breath his between his teeth and he crosses his arms. Sinking in the seat and stewing in the insults. 

"You're a real cunt, Danny." 

The man laughs, turning up the music on the radio and letting the mediocre conversation drop. It's the same tape thats been playing since he got in the car. Its not a band he recognized and the music was what he would describe as garbage. To dull his anger he stares out the window and tries to pretend he's just sitting in Joey's truck going to get Ormond or anything other than this. 

"I slipped, and I got pulled  
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,  
You pulled me up." 

Danny parks in a spot near the door and the music blissfully stops. He hears him shift to and glances over to find the man uncomfortably close. 

"Try anything funny and I'll snap your neck." Danny breaths. Despite the ridiculous statement Frank knows he isn't bluffing. 

"I won't." 

He sits docile in the car as Danny goes around to open the passenger door and let him out. Thankfully he isn't pulled in by his elbow, instead Danny walks behind him as he enters the McDonald's. There wasn't a line so he walks up to the counter and stares at the menu. The person at the counter stares at him with an annoying amount of worry on her face. 

"Can I get a..." He stares at the menu blankly, it was breakfast, "Two orders of hotcakes and a coffee." 

"I'll take two hashbrowns." Danny adds, passing the cashier a twenty. 

As the transaction takes place he looks around. The place was pretty empty aside from the employees two other guests. A hand at his elbow guides him off to the side while their food is prepared. Danny releases his elbow, but remains uncomfortably close to him. The urge to make a break for the door is almost irresistible but Danny's threat sticks in his mind. Guy was crazy enough to run him down, and dying in a McDonald's parking lot is not how he's going out. Danny grabs the tray of food when it comes out and nods to a small set of tables in the corner near the empty play place. The sight of food makes hid stomach growl and he eagarly sits down, yanking the plastic hotcakes containers toward him. Danny sits across from him, picking at his two hashbrowns idly. Frank pops the lid on his coffee and pours a bit onto his pancakes before dousing them in syrup. The added flavors barely register as he starts eating, finishing of the first serving in only a few minutes before moving onto the next. 

"Want my hashbrown?" Dany asks, sliding the wrapped and untouched item towards him. 

To his own credit he hesitates for a few seconds before taking it. Finishing off a rushed sweet breakfast with a savory addition. 

"You not hungry?" 

Danny smiles at him with an annoying fondness in his evil eyes. He meets it with a heated glare. 

"Are you worried about me?" The man coos in a way that makes him want to gag. 

"In your dreams." 

Without reply Danny stands and takes their tray, dumping it in the trashcan. Usually he just left a the shit at the table. Upon exiting the cooled fast food place he groans at the sun bearing down on him. 

"What the fuck are you even listening to?" Frank grins as the annoying droning music starts to play from the speakers. 

"Music." 

"No you fuck head, what _band_ is this." 

"Oh!" Danny seems genuinely suprised that he's asking for clarification, "Talking Heads 77'. Do you like it?" 

"Its complete shit." 

Danny's smile slips away and he looks at Frank with a genuine expression of hurt. If he was a nicer person he would almost feel bad. 

"No its really good! I mean I've been stuck on side b for a bit but Don't Worry About The Government and Psycho Killer are very good! Oh but I think you'd really like Uh-Oh Love Comes to Town and-" 

Frank stops listening to Danny. He didn't really care about music beyond what sounded good and made others the most mad. He longs for his Walkman and the loud bass of Dead Brain Cells. 

"Have you listened to Queen? I'm a really big fan, I'll dig out my tape for it and we can-" 

"Shut the fuck up you god damn fruit I don't care about your music." Frank growls, cutting Danny off and jabbing a finger at the radio to cut off the insane screeching. 

The dead silence if horrifically unnerving when he notices the vice grip Danny has on the steering wheel as he pulls into the hotel parking lot. Frank is too nervous today anything least he set the guy off, meekly following him into the building and towards their room. As soon as the door shuts Danny loops the chain around his neck and locks it. The man looks at him for a long moment, hands resting on his shoulders before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Carefully Frank steps away from him and sits on the bed, kicking his sneakers off and staring at the news on tv. Every so often his eyes flicker back to Danny, who stands still in the hallway with his eyes closed, from this far he can't hear him breathing but his shoulders rise and fall steadily with deep breaths. Frank decides to ignore him and switches the channel to MTV. 

"Now that you're fed." He says casuall as if he hadn't been stewing in silent rage for five minutes, "I need to go out. Run some errands." 

Dannny walks towards his duffle bag and digs around, pulling a rope from his bag, and Frank tenses up. The heavy boots are soundless as Danny approaching him, Dragging a hand over Frank's knee before staddling his upper thighs. As much as he wants to lash out and play tough, he forces himself to sit docile as Danny's hands shoot out and grab his wrists. They're forced above his head, and the man leans in so close he can see the flecks of light brown in the dark eyes. The position turns him on a lot more than he wants to admit. Thankfully he's not popping a boner over this juvenile shit just yet. 

"Will you be a good boy for me, Frank?" Danny whispers, voice dropping to a dark edge that makes his skin light on fire. Hard to admit it but the guy could have a really sexy voice when he wanted to. 

Frank breaths out slowly, meeting Danny's stare without wavering. Just because he was playing nice doesn't mean he was going to get humiliated by this pervert. The man smiles, more accurately bears his teeth, looking more deranged by each silent second that passes. Danny shifts his hips forward, black denim bringing a ghost of friction on Frank's dick that almost makes him shudder. He can feel the scratch of Danny's stubble against his neck when the man presses closer and breaths in deeply. Thick scent of cologne invades his senses and he lets out another slow breath through his nose. He wasn't a fucking fifteen year old, some creep feeling him up should not be affecting him the way it is. 

"Answer me." Danny demands, hands tightening around his wrists. He wonders if Danny could feel his pulse racing from the grip on his wrist. 

"I'll be quite." Frank says, voice steady and firm. Much different than how he feels inside. 

He can feel Danny let out a soft laugh, and the man presses his cheek against Frank's. Practically nuzzling him before speaking again. 

"That wasn't what I asked." Danny snarls, Frank jerks his head back, banging his skull against the headboard just to glare at Danny. The eyes were alight with something dark and dangerous. 

"Fuck you." Frank hisses, not willing to sink that low, "I'm not giving you anymore jack off material you nasty little fuck." 

"I will, Frank." Danny threatens, smile on his face not matching the dark edge in his voice, "I'll fuck you so hard I won't need jack off material." 

He jerks his hands out of Danny's grip with ease and shoves the mans shoulders back enough to squirm out from under his legs and ungracefully roll off the bed onto the floor with a loud thud. Frank climbs to his feet fast and tries to move away from the bed when the chain on his neck tightens, yanking him backwards. He tutbd to look at Danny, grabbing the chain to keep himself from being choked. Danny was gripping the chain so hard his knuckles were white. Things were going so damn well and Danny had to start coming onto him. Frank takes a deep breath, and swallows some of his pride. 

"I'll be good." Frank says carefully, "That's all you're getting." 

The mans shoulders relax and he rises from the bed. Frank stays still, playing like a deer in headlights as Danny looms over him. 

"Don't do anything I'll make you regret." Danny warns, patting Frank's cheek gently before walking past him. The door closes softly moments later. 

Frank exhales and rubs his eyes. That shit could have gone much better. It left him uncomfortably horny, but at least he wasn't gagged and tied to the bed. Half chub aside now that he was alone he should look for a way out. More importantly snoop through Danny's shit. 

First off, he crouches and looks under the bed. The chain was padlocked to the long metal frame of the bed and not one of the legs. He pulls on the frame and the bed doesn't budge. No was he was strong enough go pull it close to the door to get out to the hall. With a huff of frustration he stands and makes his way to the window, pulling the curtain back to look out. They were on the second floor and the room faced an empty back lot. Wouldn't be suprised if no one ever passed by here. The windows barely open enough for him to squeeze out of it if he ever wanted to hang himself. He shuts the window with a sigh, if only Danny had used the infinite amount of rope he had to tie him up. Then he would smash the window out to cut himself free. 

He turns his attention to Danny's duffle bag. This was where it could get messy when Danny got back. Guy might be pissed if he found out Frank had dug through his stuff, but really what did he expect? Guy flipped like a switch he might be angry if Frank didn't fuck with his stuff. 

Without any further thought he unzips the bag and peeks inside. Lots of black fabric, a few t-shirts and some jeans, a red vest was in the mix, which was kinda weird. There was an empty pill bottle for olanzapine with the name of the patient scratched out. He doubted it actually belonged to Danny. A bottle of perfume and cologn, the smell of each mingling into a nauseating aroma that made him shove it back into the black mass of clothing. Unsurprisingly was plenty of bundles of ropes. Frank had been hoping for some sort of identifying item, like a wallet or passport. The fact that he couldn't find anything didn't suprise him, Danny wasn't stupid enough to leave that shit lying around when he was a psycho killer. 

Looks like his only options were bolt cutters or a slow painful death. Frank sighs in temporary defeat and flops on the bed, chain jingling as if to remind him of his woes. He looks over at Danny's side- 

He grabs the remote and rolls onto his back, flipping through a few channels now that MTV was playing some boring trash. It was around two so the pickings were slim. He settles on a documentary about Robin Hood Hills Murders. It feels ironic to watch it, considering his history, but its a good enough piece to stare at and let time pass. 

It had barely been three days since this shit started. Felt like much longer with the gaps in his memory. Clive was still down in Roseville no doubt, getting rid of the memory that was his family. Should be back up in Ormond in another day or two, would tell Legion that he had run off on his own in a week or so. They'd forget about him eventually. No matter how infatuated those lackeys were once he was away long enough their loyalty would waver, and Frank would be a memory to them and the body rotting in the dirt nothing but a bad dream. On the bright side if Susie or Joey cracked at least he would never be found by the cops up there. Julie would never crack, he could depend on her for that. Hell, if only she was here. Girl knew so much about serial killers she could give him lessons on the Ghostface. He wonders if he would get a chance to tell her about this. She'd love it. 

The phone rings. 

Frank stares at the dock and phone, wondering if he was actually going insane. He hadn't even realized that this room came with a phone, and now it was fucking ringing? Frank jumps up and walks over to it, hand hovering over the receiver as it goes quite for a second. Should he answer it? Was this some kind of fucked up test? Or was it just room service? 

He picks up on the second ring. 

"What?" 

"Oh you answered? I like that." Danny's smooth voice coos over the phone. Disgustingly affectionate. 

"Why the fuck are you calling?" Frank snaps, "And how are you calling?" 

"What's your favourite scary movie?" Danny replies, not answering a single question. Frank is so angry he practically sees red. 

"Is this a joke?" Frank growls, letting Danny know loud and clear he was pissed. 

"No." The man ignores his rage, voice as nonchalant as ever, "I figured since the room has a VCR we could have a movie night." 

Frank was seriously starting to wonder if Danny was actually real and just his brains final death throes from a head on collision with the semi truck. He can hear Danny hum thoughtfully and a shifting noise on the other line. 

"The new releases this year look pretty bad. I mean don't get me wrong I love watching new stuff but The Mummy is in the horror section, can you believe that?" Danny rants, filling in Frank's silence, "Candyman three does come out next month, the sequel wasn't all to bad in my opinion. Good enough for me to watch the-" 

"Black Christmas." Frank interuppts the man, not wanting to hear his opinions on Joey's favorite movie series, or his options at all "That's my favorite scary movie." 

Danny breaths softly on the line, letting Frank's response sit in the silence. It was hard to say for certain when he couldn't see the man, but he got the feeling this was some sort of shitty ritual. As if he had given away a grand secret and not a fun fact about himself. 

"Hellraiser...is also good." Frank adds, voice faultering for just a moment, "Since its not Christmas." 

"Good choices. I'll try and find them." Danny replies. Frank begins to pull the phone away and hang up when the man speaks again. 

"Hey Franky, you're a smart guy, right?" 

"Sure, what's it to ya?" Frank replies, pressing the phone back to his ear curiously. 

"You wouldn't call the cops on me now, would you?" The man asks, voice dripping with a disgusting amount of saccharin it makes him feel sick. 

"Never." Frank sneers. 

"I mean it would get you out of that room..." Danny says thoughfully, "But then what?" 

He frowns at that. The man was obviously trying to get him to say something, or admit some shit. Or just trying to be a freak. Hell, it was probably all at once. Chewing his lip he debates a response, eventually deciding to play into the leading questions. 

"I dunno. You go directly to jail? Don't pass go, don't collect 200 dollars?" 

"Is that what you think?" Danny replies, voice hitching in excitement. The guy was almost painfully predictable sometimes. 

"Sure, why shouldn't I think that." Frank continues, examining the dirt on his nails, "Don't tell me big bad Mr. Ghostface has a plan for when his human captive sells his sorry ass out." He mocks, even fake pouting to get his point across. The silence on the other line is impossible to interpret. 

"Oh I do. You're never getting away from me." Danny whispers, almost too quietly to hear. The threat makes Frank shudder. 

"I'm sure you can jack off to that thought from your cell on death row." 

He can hear a muffled transaction take place on Danny's end. The guy was annoyingly chipper to the cashier. The way he talks so casually was honestly inspiring. Even in his dumb reporter persona Danny never even pinged on Frank's radar that he was a fucked kidnapper. Then again maybe being a psychopath was harder to notice than he liked to think. 

"What are you gonna tell the cops, buddy?" Danny continues, probably out of earshot from any normal human. 

"Hmm, dunno. I was kidnapped by a five foot whatever freak who chained me too a bed. I'll decide when I hang up." 

The sarcasm in his voice finally seems to pierce Danny's ego. The sigh of exasperation is distant, as if he pulled the phone away so Frank wouldn't hear it, but he dies It makes him laugh, cackling like the shitty punk he is. 

"Oh my god Danny, do you think im actually fucking retarded?" Frank snorts and pitches his voice up mockingly, "Oooh officer I was kidnapped by the Ghostface. His name is Danny and he's white, average height with brown hair. Nooo sir I'm not on drugs please don't deport me sir I-" 

"Are you done." 

Danny wasn't asking a question. His voice was dark and angry. It made Frank absolutely giddy. 

"I dunno Danny, gonna ask me anymore stupid questions?" 

"I'll be back in four hours." Danny says, anger melting away to a dull almost bored monotone. It was a bit of a disappointment but hell he got a good rise while he had. 

"Crash your car." Frank chimes and hangs up the phone, dropping back down on the bed and laying on the comfy pillows. 

He was gonna have hell to pay later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait work has been hell


	7. Scary Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma keep it real with yall. I cant remember where i was going with this fic

Danny was late. Not that Frank was craving the freaks company of course, he was just hungry. And bored enough to want someone to talk to. Despite his looks Frank never liked being left alone too long. Usually he blamed it on being an attetion whore but there was always a feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that it wasn't the entire truth. He didn't like feeling lonely. That was it. Being alone meant no one wanted him anymore. A disgusting and familar feeling. 

He hears footsteps in the hallway, and perks up. They pass into the distance, and a door further down the hall slams shut. What if Danny had just up and left him here on the paranoid thought that he actually did call the cops. The thought of the hotel staff finding him chained up like a dog in the hotel room was pretty fucking mortifying. But he didn't think the guy would abandon him after all the theatrics. Fucker was just trying to unnerve him. It was working too, or he desperatly needed a cigarette. Probably both. 

Either way it was stupid of him to get worked up over footsteps. Fucker lived up to his name, quiet as a damn ghost. Restless he stands and walks over to the desk, sitting in the chair and pulling open the drapes. It was getting dark out. Nothing more isolation than night. The chain weighs heavy on his shoulders, and he wishes that he picked another fucking car to steal. A movement in the reflection on the window catches his attention, and he turns to see the door open and Danny step inside. Relief floods through him, followed by annoyance at the fact. Danny smiles at him lovingly. It was fucking gross. 

"Hey! Sorry I'm late I was caught up in traffic and-" 

"I don't care." Frank interuppts, turning to stare out the window again. He watches Danny frown in the reflection of the glass. That's when the smell of food hits him and he perks up, spinning the chair around to face the man again. 

"Is that pizza?" 

"I did offer a movie night." Danny replies, setting the two boxes on the bed along with bottles of pop, "Can't have that without snacks." 

Frank forgets all pretense of being mad and rises, beelining towards the food like a wild animal. McDonald's wasn't exactly filling for an entire day. Danny makes no move to stop or encourage him, just standing like a shadow as he devoures an entire slice in less than ten seconds. He was acting awfully nice considering Frank had mocked him so viciously. Maybe he had forgotten about it. If so no point in bringing it up. 

"What'd you get?" He asks, eyeing the plastic bag in his other hand. 

"It took a lot of looking but I managed to find Black Christmas." Danny says, pulling the VHS out and setting it on the bed, "I got Halloween and The Blair Witch Project." 

"Wow are you trying to make me fall asleep? Blair Witch looks like shit." Frank says, grabbing a coke and twisting it open, "There's no gore." 

Danny raises his eyebrows before turning away from him to start a movie. He hesitates before pushing his luck. 

"And no offense Halloween is boring. All the action is packed into the last fifteen minutes." 

"Figured you be a blood and guts fan." Danny says absently, almost bored. 

Franks scoffs and sits on the bed, making sure to throw half his chain on the side where Danny would sit. The movie starts and he sits back as Danny joins him on the bed, sitting so close their arms brush. Frank scoots away a bit as the familar scenes start to play out. He's seen this movie plenty of times, so he starts to zone out pretty quick. Danny on the other hand looks invested. 

"Not a lot of blood and guts. Sure this is your favorite?" 

He shrugs, "I watched it a lot as a kid." 

"Fucked up movie to let a kid watch." 

That was true, but then again no one cared about him enough to moniter his media intake. 

"Movies like this make real killers." Danny adds softly, his careful tone make Frank's skin crawl. 

He doesn't responde, and Danny laughs softly. The mans hand is warm when it rests on his knee. Frank slaps it away as hard as he can, bringing a playful hum from Danny. It disgusts him. Thankfully the man doesn't say anything else until act three starts picking up. Thats when he feels Danny press his shoulder against his. If he tried to move away anymore he would fall off the bed. 

"So how did you do it?" Danny's voice trickles like ice cold water down his back, "Knife in the back? Choke them out? Hit and run? 

"The fuck are you talking about?" Frank growls through gritted teeth. 

The mans arm slides around his shoulders, gripping his arm tightly as Danny forces him closer. He smelled like that perfume, except not disgustingly mixed with cologne. Danny was also uncomfortably warm, heat practically radiating off him. Doft breaths tickles his ear and he stares forward steadily, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

"You don't have to play dumb with me." Danny whispers, other hand gripping the chain on Frank's neck and yanking it He turns to glare at the man, forehead bumping into Danny's nose. 

"Go fuck yourself." 

"Only if you tell me the bloody details." Danny coos, "Was it fun? Does it get you hard to think about?" 

He wants to strangle Danny. To wrap his hands around the fuckers neck and squeeze until he never talks again. It was infuriating how much those words got to him. How fast they dredged up the ugly parts of his morality. Maybe he should accept the fact that he was far more depraved than he liked to think, give in to the shadows of his conscious that lurk when he's off serious medication. Give up on social niceties like society had given up on him when his parents died. Danny leans in close, stubble brushing his cheek, warm breath brushing over his ear. Frank tenses, waiting for more disgusting lines. Except Danny is silent for once. Breathing softly as he nuzzles his neck. He wavers, and indulges the man. It got him attetion, after all. 

"I don't think about it." Frank admits, staring at the screen over Danny's head, "It didn't matter." 

A hand runs down his body, tracing his chest and running over his thighs. He stays still, allowing Danny's fingers to trace lazy circles over him. 

Danny finally whispers, "Tell me about it. I'll tell you about mine." 

Now that was tempting. Danny's first kill, he couldn't even imagine what it was like. Probably tame, judging by his recent escalation. That's how these killers work after all. 

"It was an accident." Frank confesses, watching the credits scroll across the screen. Danny stills over him, listening with baited breath. Hanging off Frank's few words. He basks in the attention before picking his next words carefully, "I'm a bad person yeah, but I never thought of myself as a killer." 

He swallows, thinking back to that night, the first time he'd done so willingly. They were bad people, to not admit that was to either be in denial or fucking stupid. They stole, bullied, and hurt a lot if innocent people. But Frank had always flinched at the thought of murder when it flew at him. Grievous bodily harm and assault sure, he could do that. But there was a line in his morals that stopped him from going that far. Some leash that kept him and the others tethered, until it snapped. There was a difference between fascination and action. They could watch all the slasher flicks, read up on every seial killer known to man. Julie could talk circles around what she really wanted, but they all had to admit it. Alone he wasn't a killer, and neither was Julie or Joey or Susie. But together they had broken the through the hesitation, they did what he said he wouldn't do. Not for himself, not for Julie. Not for anyone. 

"It was easy. It shouldn't have been but it was." Frank says, watching the black screen cut to static that roared in his ears. Much like that night, "I stabbed him first. In the side, liver I think." 

"Did you like it?" 

Now that was a real riddle. Frank had done his fucking duty to not think about it. For the past two years the most he thought about it was when him and Julie went up the mountain alone three months later to bury the body deeper. No tarp was thick enough to mask the stench of a rotton body, petrified and dripping.. It made his stomach turn just remembering it. But the act? Did he like it? The feeling of literal blood on his hands? The act of taking a life. 

"I don't know." 

"Do you not know, or do you not want to admit to it." 

Danny had a way with words that rivaled Frank's own ability to manipulate others. Both was the correct answer for that. Frank doesn't want to admit what he doesn't even know for certain. Nothing was more pathetic than clinging to the last scrap of innocence he had left. With a deep breath he allows himself to think back on that night, on the feeling of killing a man in cold blood. He could pretend it was self defense, if he wanted to be that in denial. The most he could say was that it started as an accident, Julie screamed and he panicked. The knife was in his hand, and he lashed out. Then he escalated. Adrenalin and instinct had taken over his mind. There wasn't any real enjoyment in the action at the moment, he could admit that. There wasn't time to enjoy it with the fear and horror on the forefront of his mind. 

"No. I didn't like it." 

If that wasn't the answer Danny was looking for then he didn't show it. The man simply runs his hands in soothing circles on Frank's thighs. He didn't like the silence, the lack of care or response to something Danny had obviously been chomping at the bit to learn about. Maybe he should have lied, said he loved nothing more than ripping someone open. 

"What about you?" Frank breaks the silence, hoping to stir Danny out of the weird trance he had fallen into. If the guy hadn't been stroking his thigh Frank would've assumed he was asleep. 

"Me?" 

"You said you'd tell me about your first time." 

Danny lets out an laugh and sits up. He grabs the remote and hits rewind on the vhs before smiling at him. Its hard to not feel a hint of excitement at learning about a serial killers very first victim. Usually they're ones no one knows about, ever. Sensing his eagerness Danny lets him sit in silenece for a good minute before reaching over to run his fingers over the chain on his neck. Frank senses the malice in the touch before Danny speaks. 

"Do you think I'm actually fucking stupid?" Danny mocks, gripping the chain and pulling it back, not cutting off his air supply but making breathing difficukt and painful. He reaches up and grips the chain, trying in vain to pull it away from his throat before Danny could cut off his air all the way. 

"S-still mad about that? You pussy." Frank mocks, enjoying the poorly masked rage on Danny's face. He didn't really believe that he had forgotten about their phone call. Not when he did the exact same thing to others. Let them simmer for a bit until attacking. 

"Are you going to ask me anymore stupid questions?" Danny sneers. It made him so damn proud that he had made Danny so mad. This was telling him more about the bastard than any other conversation before. 

He hate losing. Control, power, his temper. Danny didn't like showing weakness. And he was asserting his dominance now tenfold. Couldn't blame him, Frank was the same way. 

"You're so fucking _predictable._ Give you a little food and act like your boyfriend you spill your guts." 

Ouch, being mocked after admitting that very personal tidbit of information really hurt. Nothing worse than a taste of your own medicine. Instead of showing it however Frank lashes out, bearing his teeth as he thrashs against Danny's hold. The chain tightens, and he chokes for breath. 

"Honestly Franky, after hearing your confession I'm not sure I even want to keep you around. I thought you were better than that. I thought you'd be fun." Danny hisses, leaning in closer as the edges of his vision start to darken. 

Maybe this was it. Danny was going to kill him for real now that he realized Frank had nothing to offer. The smell of cologne clogs his nose andhis thrashes start to weaken. His lungs hurt, and Danny was just staring at him. What a fucking joke, his whole shitty life leads up to dying in a hotel after confessing to murder. Frank feels an idea forming in his oxygen deprived mind. Danny was a depraved little psycho, it might fucking work. He reaches out and grabs Danny's hair in a weak grip. With the last of his strength he pulls the man forward. Thankfully he doesn't resist and Frank's able to press his chapped lips against Danny's clumsily. His lungs burn and he closes his eyes, unable to muster up enough strength to fight to stay awake as he slips into unconsciousness. 

Frank blinks, trying to focus on the sounds in the room. People were talking, but they didn't sound right. His eyes finally alight on the t.v infront of him, an unfamiliar movie on the screen. Behind him Danny shifts, arms pulling him closer into his chest. In the time he was out Danny had put in a new movie and had Frank sitting in his lap. His hands had been handcuffed infront of him. Didn't even realize Danny owned a pair, unless he had bought them today. He leans his head against Danny's chest and swallows, his throat burns again. 

"What do you want?" Frank asks, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice. 

Danny laughs, leaning forward and resting his chin on Frank's shoulder. 

"To see what your insides look like." Danny purrs. The line is almost too cheesy to take seriously. 

"Don't tell me you've used that on victims?" Frank rasps out, "It's only scary when I know you'll kill me." 

"And how do you know I wont?" 

Frank shrugs, "I'm not dead yet, after all the shit I've thrown at you." 

Danny hums in thought, pulling Frank close as he leans against the headboard. Frank doesn't fight him, its not worth it. 

"Got me there." The man gently kisses the top of Frank's head, "We're checking out tomorrow. Will you behave?" 

Frank stares at the screen, not really paying attention to what was going on. He would be out of the hotel and back in a car. Pros and cons. But he'd feel better with the chain off his neck. He yawns, closing his eyes and relaxing. This movie sucks. 

"What was your first time like?" Frank asks, annoyed as Danny pulls the blanket over him as if they were gonna cuddle and sleep. 

"Some girl from highschool. It was prom night, not very good. I don't swing that way." 

"Your first kill, dumbass." Frank clarifies, not keen on hearing about Danny's sex life. 

"Oh yeah, I do owe ya."Danny's fingers drum against Frank's leg, "Who do you think it was?" 

Frank shrugs, "Dunno. Some girl you stalked throught school. Same one from prom." 

Danny laughs at that, and Frank can feel him tense in excitment at the memory. Curiosity burns in his mind as he waits for Danny to enlighten him. 

"I've always been a bit of a stalker, y'know. Not one of those nasty types you see on t.v. all he time. No one thought I was weird, no one noticed that I knew every aspect of their lives down to their siblings schedual." Danny whispers, voice riff with elation at the memory. 

"So I was right?" 

He feels Danny shake his head, "No, not quite. You see stalkings all well and good, but there's no climax. I can learn everything about someone, but what's the point if I cant do anything with it? Can't use it. Can't abuse it." 

Spoken like a true psychopath. Frank can't say he doesn't understand. In bullying there has to be an escalation in some way, you can wear away at someone with the basic shit but if you don't up the ante then it doesn't matter in the end. 

"So you killed someone you stalked?" 

"Kinda. It was someone I was close to." Danny admits, "I guess you wouldn't really understand." 

"Oh fuck off, I have people I'm close to." Frank grumbles, kind of offended at the implication that he had no friends. 

"Oh do you?" 

"...Yeah." 

"Like your foster dad?" 

Frank huffs in annoyance, "No. I had friends up in Canada. Clive is just...was just my keeper." 

"What happened to your parents?" Danny asks suddenly, "They drop you in a dumpster somewhere or what?" 

"Don't change the subject." Frank snaps. 

"I'm not. You'll see when I get to the point." 

With a roll of his eyes that Danny can't even see, he gives a deep sigh and relays the short story. 

"They died when I was six. Hit and run or something. Barely remember them." People liked to ask, and he really didn't mind using it to his advantage. It was a perfect sob story to get him out of trouble. Honestly the death of his parents is the least tragic thing to happen to him. 

"My parents never married. Separated officially when I was ten really ruined there relationship I did. I lived with my father until I was seventeen." Danny says, it was weird to hear personal info about him. 

"Uh huh. So like your first kill?" 

Danny pulls Frank into a hug, gently nuzzling his neck. He can feel the smile against his neck and shivers. 

"The very first person I ever killed was my father." 

Frank turns, staring at Danny in disbelief, "Can you be serious for once?" 

"I knew everything about him. I didn't just stalk my friends, Franky, I stalked everyone that touched my life. Who better to kill than someone who trusted me fully, someone who raised me. Someone who loved me." Danny looks elated at the memory, "But you know what the final straw was? What pushed me to kill the fucker outright instead of just imagining it every day?" 

"What." 

"He said that journalism was for sissys, and that I should go to a trade school instead." He laughs, voice filled with joy and elation, "So I made a good fucking story with him. Single dad butchered in the livingroom while his son was camping with a friend. It was in the paper for weeks. Poor little Danny and his dead dad, fresh new orphan for the system to chew up and spit out. You're familiar with that, right?" 

Dannys sighs happily, "It was sloppy, yhough. Not enough blood. Didn't spread his guts on the floor. Just left him in his chair to bleed out like a stuck pig. I was too scared I'd get caught." 

Framk doesn't respond. How does anyone responde to that sort of shit. It was equal parts insane and completely plausible. He lays against Danny limply, feeling incredibly exaughsted. 

"I requested Danny Boy at the funeral." He whispers, "Figured it would be funny. Made my aunt cry." 

The man reaches over a grabs the remote, turning off the t.v., casting the room into darkness, "Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." 

He doesn't think about what the fuck that means, simply taking Danny advice and closing his eyes. Sleep comes easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im probs gonna put this on hold a bit until i can figure out a ending, my bad (':  
> Thank you for sticking with me!


	8. Movie Trivia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not back back, but i managed to finish this chapter so here yall go. Goodbye again.

Frank opens his eyes to be met with a dim room. Faint early morning light was trickling in from the windows, and he was tied to a chair, wearing the same shirt and boxers he had slept in.. With a groan he cracks his neck and looks around, immedietly noticing that this wasn't their hotel room. It was the same hotel, since it looked tacky but the painting above the bed was different. There wasn't a chain on his neck, and all their dhit was gone. The two other people tied to chairs, gagged and blindfolded was a bit of a dead giveaway. Judging by the orientation of all the furniture Frank figures they're in a room along the same hall as their own. Maybe a couple, he'd briefly heard then yelling a day ago in the hall. The man and women were both awake, hyperventilating in fear through their bags. They where in a semi circle around the windows, the man in the middle, and the woman across from him. 

Now where was his psychotic captor. He doesn't see him lurking in the corners of his vision. But he can practically feel the mans presence somewhere in the room, craning his neck he catches sight of the black figure leaning on the desk just behind him. 

"Everyone awake?" Danny says, voice coming out oddly muffled. The people flinch in terror at the voice. 

Dannys fingers brush down his shoulder as he walks past, footsteps silent as always. For the first time Frank sees him in his full costume. The same black overcoat and boots from the first night they met, shitty plastic mask covered in little scratches and bloodstains. Bright white now a dull off cream color. How much blood does it take to stain that plastic? A person? Two? Three? The thought makes his stomach churn. Danny stops in the middle of the semicircle mask observing the three of them with disdain. He raises a finger to the mouth of the mask in a universal sign of be quite. He mouths what the fuck at Danny, who shrugs playfully in response. Guy did promise a big day. 

"Alright, let's all be good now. Im going to take off the gag and the blindfold. If anyone starts screaming, everyone dies. If you're quite, and play along you might just live. Can you do that for me?" 

The two nod quickly, muffled grunting noises coming from around their gags. Danny moves forward and pulls off the mans gag. He gasps for air and immediately starts to whine. 

"P-Please don't kill us. I can pay you! I can give you anything-" 

"Listen Schumer, I really don't like it when people beg." Danny interrupts, icey voice literally sending chills down Frank's spine, "Believe me, I've heard it all before. Just sit right there and let me do what I want to do." 

The man nods, gulping and tilting his head down demurly. When Danny ungags the women she doesn't even bother begging, just gasping for air. Danny turns to him, and gently ruffles his hair. Frank jerks his head away. 

"Fuck off." 

The two others flinch in fear and Danny laughs. He runs his fingers through Frank's hair affectionately before turning back to the two captives. In one quick movement he pulls off both their blindfolds and they blink, squinting around in shock. They were honestly very unremarkable looking people. Middle aged, kind of fat and sunburned. The womans brown roots were growing in from her bleach blonde and the guy was balding. Maybe they were heading back from vacation? When their eyes alighted on Danny the woman practically screams. Breaking into sobs and babbling. If the man didn't look scared before, he looked it now. To watch the transformation of fear into true terror. 

"Boo." Danny laughs, crouching down to be eyelevel with the couple, "Looks like you saw a ghost." 

Frank rolls his eyes at the theatrics. It was hard to take Danny seriously as it is. Sure the guy was a viscous maniac and kept him chained to a bed for two days, but he had never reached this level of theatrics in private. 

"Frank this Dale and Martha Schumer. Dale, Martha, this is Frank. Say hello." 

The couple looks at him, and he wonders if he should pretend to be scared. He was a good actor but he would not be able to keep it up if things got too messy. Danny would like it too much. Instead he gives what comes off as a reassuring smile. The man relaxes ever so slightly. They all stare at Danny as tension mounts in the horrible silence. 

"I said no begging, not no talking. Get acquainted. Oh! Let's all tell eachother facts about ourselves!" 

Frank stares at Danny silently. The couple doesn't offer up any fun facts. After two long minutes of dead silence Danny's shoulders sink slightly and he sighs, rising to his full height with a sad shake of his head. The boots are silent on the wood as he walks around the back of Dale's chair. The man tenses, but Danny passes him by. Slowly stepping past Martha's and towards him. Tension was rising in the air, and Frank was almost holding his breath as Danny slips out of his perphial vision to stand behind him. He stares forward in defiance, even as fabric rustles and Danny's warm body leans against his shoulders. He doesn't move when cold steel touch the back of his hand. 

"That wasn't a suggestion." 

Fuck, he really didn't want a fucking hole in his hand. He looks at the couple, who only stare in shock at him. They'd be no help. Fun fact, fun fact, somethig stupid that will not be used against him by the little shit about to make him the worst Jesus Christ impersonator this side of the border. 

"My favorite dessert is devil's food cake." He says quickly, relaxing ever so slightly when Danny lifts the knife and walks back to his spot in the middle. 

"Good one, very cute." Danny praises before pointing the knife at the woman. 

"Don't you wanna share the little fun fact that you've been fucking Dale's brother for the past few months?" 

The woman gapes at him, and the man turns to stares at her in shock. Danny rounds on him, shoving the knife in his face like an accusing finger. 

"Oooh and how about you gambling away half the savings then blowing the rest on this shitty little vacation? That's a really fun fact!" 

The man folds in like a wet paper towel, crushed under the weight of his shitty life. Frank didn't doubt these facts, even if they seemed outlandish. Fuck if Danny told him the exact time of his birth he would believe him. How he got this information was anyones guess, maybe he would ask after this. Could come in handy later. 

"I told you this will be a lot easier if you all cooperate." Danny says, gently patting the mans cheek, "Now that we're all friends, we're going to play a little game." 

The woman lets out a sob, the two were so scared he could see them shaking from his spot. Frank couldn't blame her though, he was starting to sweat a bit at the severity of the mans tone. Danny was an unpredictable storm and Frank wasn't any safer than these two. He had a feeling he couldn't kiss his way out of this one if things went south. 

"Please...what do you want?" 

The mask tilts and Danny crouches down infront of the woman, leaning in so close the mask almost bumps her forehead. 

"To see what your insides look like." 

The line delivery is much better this time. She literally pisses her fucking pants, sobbing as it dribbles onto the floor. Frank can't hold back a bark of laughter at how utterly pathetic it was. Danny jerks his head over, drooping eyes staring at Frank. Shit, Frank didn't want him to think he was laughing at the line like last night. 

"Did you really just piss yourself? My fucking god lady he just pointed a knife at you, not like he stabbed you eh?" Frank mocks, causing the husband to glare at him abd opens his mouth to speak. Danny's shoulders relax, and he stands again, interuppting the husband's insult. 

"Let's cut to the chase. The games rules are very simple, answer a question correctly and you win the round." Danny says, twirling his knife theatrically. 

"Is that all?" The man asks barely managing a brave face. 

"Well no." Danny shrugs, Frank can practically hear the smile under the mask, "But it's easier to show you. Lets start!" 

"Wait no please just let us-" 

"First category!" Danny interrupts, pulling a notebook from the pocket of his overcoat, "Let's see, I'll pick an easy one for you three..." 

He flips through a few pages, humming thoughtfully. Anxiety builds in Frank's chest the longer Danny stares at the book. 

"Movie trivia." 

Frank relaxes ever so slightly. Knowing Danny it would be horror movie trivia, he doubts these guys would be into scary movies anyway. 

"What year was Forrest Gump released?" 

Frank stares at the mask in shock. 

"What?" 

"What year was Forrest-" 

"1994!" The man interuppts, "It came out in 1994." 

He glares at Danny, knowing damn well the man planned this shit. Lulling him into a false sense of security with movie trivia god fuckong dammit. 

"Ooh, good job Dale. You win." The mask turns to face the man, "Now pick the loser." 

The mans brown eyes flick to his wife, then to Frank. He practically feels anger coming off the hard stare. 

"Frank." The man condemns. 

Danny takes two steps to stand infront of him, blocking the other two from view. Frank glares up determined not to give Danny the satisfaction of fear. The man kneels slightly, cold mask now eye level with Frank. Seconds pass before Danny covers his mouth with one gloved hand, and stabs the knife into his upper thigh. 

Frank screams, jerking back as hot pain flows down his leg. Finger nails dig into the arms of the chair as he forces himself to sit still and not push the knife deeper by thrashing around. He squeezes his eyes shut and breaths quickly through his nose in an attempt to ground himself. Danny pulls the blade out, and through tears he can see a few centimeters of blood on the knife. The gloved hand drops away and he gasps desperately, leaning forward as he tries to take slow steady breaths. Tears leak out of his eyes and he lets out a curse. With steady breathing the pain starts to fade and he sits up, blinking away the tears as the sounds in the room make sense again. The husband looked annoying smug. 

"The 49rs!" 

"Correct! You're on a role, Dale. Now pick a loser." 

He meets the fuckers cold eyes, and grits his teeth. Rage bubbles inside him at what's coming next. It wasn't fucking fair. 

"Frank." 

The mask turns towards him, and Frank meets the drooping eyes. He wasn't going to let these fuckers watch him suffer. Letting out a breath, he steels himself for more torture. 

Danny moves fast, disturbingly fast. He covers the mans mouth and shoves the knife into his knee. All the way to the hilt. The mans scream is muffled and dripping with agony. The womans screech is loud and obnoxious. She starts to babble and beg as the man twitches in pain while Danny slowly pulls the knife out. 

"Can't pick the same loser twice, Dale." Danny pushes himself away and full on backhands the woman, causing her to fall silent except for soft sobs, "Not fair for you to gang up on one guy, right?" 

No one replies, only the two sobbing in pain and fear. Frank meets the nasks eyes and Danny tilts his head ever so slightly. This game was rigged from the start. 

"What movie uses the line 'Sweets to the sweet'?" 

"Candyman." Frank doesn't even have to think, he knew that movie by heart. 

The black clad hand sweeps over the two, asking Frank to choose. The man looks at him in horror, and Frank fights off a smile. 

"Her." 

The knife squelches as it sinks into the womans thigh. Her scream muffled by Danny's hand as she violently thrashes against his grip, cutting her leg deeper. The man begs him to stop, terrified and desperate. Frank starts to laugh. Mocking the mans anguish. That's what he fucking gets for trying to hurt him. No one fucks with him and gets away with it. Danny steps back, blood dripping onto the floor from the knife. 

"Who is the killer in Friday the 13th?" 

"Jason!" The man yells, earning him a knife to the other knee with swift brutality. 

"Wrong answer." Danny growls, twisting the blade and pulling a pained whimper from the man. 

"N-no it's Jason, Jason Voorheese! I watched that damn movie when I was a teen all the time!" The woman chokes out through sobs, "Stop cheating he's right!" 

"Then you would know that Pamela was the killer in the first one." Frank hisses before Danny can speak, "Jason didn't show up until the _sequal_ you dumb bitch." 

Blood splatters over Frank as Danny yanks the knife out so fast blood flies off the blade. The mask turns to him, and nods ever so slightly. Pride bubbles in Frank's chest at the small gesture of praise. He doesn't get punished this round. 

"Not lookin' too hot Dale. I got an easy one just for you!" Danny coos, his voice slipping into near hysterics, "When's your anniversary!" 

Frank watches the man stare at Danny through the pain, unable to remember his own fucking anniversary. He snorts, then breaks into more laughter. It sounded hysterical even to himself. It made the woman cry harder as he tries to stifle the giggles. 

"C'mon Ghosty that's cheating. He obviously doesn't know!" Frank mocks, grinning at the two fearful face that stares back at him, "Give him a hint!" 

The knife impales the meat of the mans shoulder, twisting on it's way out to a weak cry of pain. Color was draining fast from the mans face as blood poured out of his punctured arteries. Frank couldn't even bring himself to feel bad for him, not when his leg still hurt like a mother fucker. It's what he deserves. 

"February third." The womans says. Her voice was dull and lifeless. 

"Good one! Who's the loser?" 

She looks at him, and narrows her eyes in utter hatred, "Frank." 

Ghostface walks over to him and Frank smiles. Delirious with pain, adrenaline, fear and excitment. Watching agony on the faces of people who hurt him, even if it wasn't wrought by his own hand, it brought him joy. He waits for the stab, for the flare of pain to run through his leg and the scream that will follow. Ghostface crouches to be level with him, and through the mesh he can almost make out the eyes under the mask. A gloved hand rests over on his knee, leaving a bloody handprint on the fabric. 

"Having fun?" The man whispers, barely audible through the mask. 

Frank stares at him, waiting for the attack. He wasn't going to get distracted. Even as Ghostface starts to lift his shirt, dripping hot blood on his stomach and chest. 

"Do it, Danny." He whispers, begging for the pain. 

The knife doesn't pierce his skin right away, instead the warm blade presses against the soft skin of his stomach. Blood running over his body warm and sticky. His breath comes in fast excited pants as pain starts to flare along the knife tip. Not the burning agony of the stab but smaller, more precise pin pricks of heat. Frank hisses through his teeth, looking down as Ghostface pulls the knife away to admire his work. 

"Oh that's fucked up." Frank says, staring at the word carved just above his navel in shallow cat scratches. 

Danny, in crooked bleeding letters. It was almost heartwarming. He drops Frank's shirt and turns back to the other two. The man was breathing shallowly, head lolled back and pale as all hell as the blood pools below him starts to reach a radius of two feet. 

"What county is Frank from?" He asks, watching the woman sob weakly next to him. 

"Ameri-" 

"Canada!" Frank interuppts, eyes flicking excitedly between the two victims. The man was bleeding out and would be dead soon, but she still had some life in her to beat down. 

"Very good!" 

"This isn't fair!" The woman screams, thrashing against the ropes, "You're both monsters!!!"" 

Ghostface surges forward, the knife flashes against the sunlight in a beautiful arc. She gurgles in shock, eyes lolling back as her arteries spray blood from her slashed throat. She's dead before the blood hits the floor. Next to her the man sobs and gasps, blabbering about how much he loves her. Slowly, Ghostface turns towards him. The mask dripping with bright red wet blood. It looks as if it belongs there, as if the mask was supposed to bleed. He's so enraptured in the view that he almost doesn't quite comprehend the man moving closer until he's inches away. 

"How do you feel?" Danny asks, pulling the mask up to reveal his face. Eyes almost black from how blown out his pupils had become. Frank blinks dumbly at him, almost not recognizing the man behind the mask despite bring the only person he's seen in days. 

"See, Franky I had you all figured out. Almost got me doubting you with that confession of yours last night." Danny leans in close and his lips brush against Frank's. Making him jerk back. 

"You like to watch." 

Frank feels frazzled, like he was watching all of this from outside his body. It was the same way he felt watching the others stab that man only far more intense. Danny's words made perfect sense yet he felt like his mind was melting. Especially as a gloved hand starts to trail up his thighs, fingers tracing over the tender stab wound and making him hiss. 

"You like to hold someones life in your hands, but you don't like getting those hands dirty." Danny forces his lips against Frank's, shoving his tongue into his mouth unceremoniously. Frank kisses back, moving forward in his chair and sucking on Danny's tongue eagarly. All disdain for Danny had flown out the window and now he wanted nothing more than to fuck this monster. 

Two gloved hands trail up his sides, pushing his shirt up and streaking tacky blood over his skin. Frank tugs against the binds, wanting to pull Danny closer. As if knowing how much he wants it Danny pulls away. Wild eyes bright as his shit eating grin. 

"You don't have to admit it yet, but I want it to stir around in the pretty little head of yours." 

Frank will not let it sit in his mind. Instead he was going to run the fuck away from that the only way he could. 

"Are we going to fuck or is this just my drawn out death scene?" 

The ropes at his hands are cut away with two quick movement's off Danny's knife, "Only if you want to." 

Frank flexes his gands before he grabs Danny's coat lapels and pulls him down, smashing their mouths together. Teeth bang together as Frank bites Danny's lip and sucks viciously. He can feel the man grip him under the armpirs and lift him from the chair into a standing position with ease. Putting weight on the leg with the stab wound hurts, so instead he wraps his arms around the mans shoulders before he hops up. Wrapping his legs around the mans waist in a vice like grip. Danny stumbles a bit but adjusts his grip to support him, hands gripping his ass drawing a soft moan from Frank. 

"You're strong." Frank comments, pulling away from the kiss to bite at Danny's neck. 

"Well you're not very heavy, Franky." Danny laughs and shuffles over to the bed with frank in his arms, "Let go." 

Frank unwraps his legs and alights on the ground, still leaning on Danny heavily as the mans fingers trail over the hem of his boxers. Unbuttoning the first button, but stopping there. He groans, bucking his hips into Dannys hand eagarly. The small amount of friction makes him desperate for more. Strong hands grip his hips and gently push him back, coaxing him to sit on the bed. Which he does, pulling Danny down with him and spreading his legs to allow the mans knee to rest between them. Danny's hands pull away from his hips and he starts to unbutton his coat, revealing a turtle neck made out of the weird sports fabric that clings to his body like liquid. A nice change from the ratty Queen shirt, guys never looked hotter in Frank's opinion. Danny's knee presses againt his half chub and Frank lets out a sighs, rutting against Danny with only a little shame nagging at his mind. 

Shocks of pain emminate from his stab wound and stomach cuts as he rolls his hips, crossing the wires of pain and pleasure in his shitty fucked up brain. A lot of wires are being crossed today, and it wasn't even lunch time. Danny's stubble scratches his neck, and he leans his head back. Allowing the man to bite and suck at the tender skin. Dried blood flakes off the mans leather gloves as he pushes Frank's shirt up past his nipples, running his hands over his body slowly. His conscious was starting to set in as adrenaline fades. Danny was moving way to fucking slow. 

To avoid that crash he buries his fingers in Danny's greasy hair, twisting the curls and yanking him off his neck. Cold dark eyes meet his and Frank gives him one of his award winning smiles. 

"Don't tease me." He whispers, enjoying the way Danny's breath catches in his throat, "I want you now." 

Danny's reaction is instant, pushing Frank down on the bed and forcing himself between Frank's legs. He pulls off Frank's boxers, making him hiss in pain as the rub against his open wound. Danny stroks Frank's chest with his gloved hands. He runs his fingers over the scratches, spelling out his name lovingly before trailing down and gripping Frank's cock. The action makes him whine and buck his hips, already at a full erection. Though in his defense he hadn't been able to jack off in almost two weeks. Danny gently strokes his cock as he looks around the room, reaching over to open the bedside drawer nearest to him. 

"What are you doing?" Frank asks as Danny riffles through the drawer. 

"I didn't bring lube." 

Oh shit. Danny was taking that fuck me request literally. His eyes trail past Danny to the dead bodies still in their chairs. It makes his stomach churn and kills his boner so he looks away. The man leans down and bites Frank's neck, sucking hard for three seconds before pulling away. 

"I really wanted to fuck you too." Danny muses, sending a shiver through Frank's body, "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll still make you cum." 

Frank shudders at those words, no ones ever said that to him during sex. Although most of the time he's the one doing the fucking. Danny presses his lips against Frank's again, sucking hard on his lip before pushing his tongue into his mouth. His hand starts to move faster, long and steady strokes that make him arch his back in pleasure as he closes his eyes. His other hand grips Frank's hips and pulls him closer, grinding against Frank's ass. Maybe Danny would be a pretty good fuck. 

"Look at me." 

He opens his eyes obediently, Dann gently runs his thumb over the tip of Frank's cock and he whines. Eyes fluttering closed again. A few seconds later pain blooms across his cheek and he gasps. Glaring at Danny through another spike of pleasure. 

"What the f-" 

"I told you to _look_ at me." Danny growls. Hand resting on his hot cheek lovingly. He can feel the tacky semi-dried blood smear over his face. 

Frank glares at him, but keeps his eyes open. No point in disobeying the freak, he might just stab him again. He wraps his arms around the mans neck and drags his nails down the Danny's back before slipping them under his shirt. He pulls it up to the mans nipples, running his fingers over his stomach and sides. Danny seems to enjoy the sensation, letting out a soft sigh. 

"Good boy." Danny coos, running his fingers through Frank's short hair, "Are you close?" 

He shakes his head, while the pleasure was building he wasn't going to cum that fast. Though he hated to admit that the praise made him feel warm fuzzies inside. Danny redposyions himself over Frank, hiking his uninjured leg up over his shoulder as he unbutton his jeans to pull his half erect cock out. Frank raises his eyebrows, guy was bigger than expected. He rests his half hard member on Frank's cock and spits on his glove before wrapping his hand around both cocks. The spit part is really gross but he didn't mind the way it felt. 

"Thus is real cute, like two gaggots at summer camp." Frank teases, rocking into Danny's hand. 

"Aww don't tell me this is your first time rubbin' up on another guy. Here I thought I was special." Danny spits right back, jerking his hips hard against him. The action makes his stab wound flare in pain, but its almost overshadowed by the hand jacking his dick. 

"You're not anything special to me." Frank smiles as Danny's face falls slightly, "Can't even fuck me when I ask." 

Danny stops moving. Instsntly going still as a statute above Frank. The lack of pleasure brings a small whimper to his lips and he rocks slightly against Danny to get some friction, abd encourage sone movement. He can't even feel the other man breathing anymore. Just a icey cold stare, brown eyes boring into him. Judging him. Frank wonders if Danny was going to kill him for going to far. He shifts into damage control mode, what did Danny want now? A braty fuck toy, right? No, no thats dumb he would see through that in a second, he just needs to backtrack a bit. 

"Hey, Danny you okay? I didn't really mean that. I thought we were dirty talking." Frank says carefully, pushing himself up slightly, "Are you in there man?" 

Danny stands up in one quick movement. Dropping Frank's legs onto the bed and turning away from him. He grunts in pain and sits up on the bed, feeling horribly blue balled and in pain at the movement. Danny grabs something off the floor and rises. Panic shoots through Frank's system. He really wishes he had pants on when Danny turns to face him again in the blood soaked mask. 

"Danny-" He stops suddenly, guy said it himself he doesn't like it when people beg. 

The man walks back to the bed and grabs Frank by his throat. Golve'd hand tightning in a vice and dragging him off the matterss. Frank thrashes in the grip, clawing at Danny's hand until he's thrown on a cold tiled floor. He cries out and instinctively tries to cover his bleeding leg as Ghostface stands over him. Frank scrambles back and grabs the edge of the tub, pulling himself into a sitting position as Ghostface curiously picks a bottle up off the sink. 

"You're really killing my fucking boner here you insecure little fuck!" He snaps, unable to quell his anger at Danny's childish act. 

Ghostface looks at him, breath coming heavy from the behind mask. Without the coat he looked pretty damn good on the getup, shirt and unbuttoned pants with an obvious erection. Being scared abd horsey was a first for him. He looks at what was in Ghostface's hand and his eyes widen. He knew lube when he saw it. The man drops to his knees in front of Frank, grabbing his hips and forcing him to turn around. Excitment runs through his body as Ghostface pins him against the tub. His cock presses against the cold material and he shudders as Ghostface runs a hand up his thighs, over his ass before pushing his shoulders down. He braces his forearms on the tubs enamel and looks back at the man holding him down. The mask stares back, and he licks his lips in anticipation. 

"Alright, Ghosty. Make it special." 

The gloves come off, and he hears the lube uncap. Clammy hands run over his ass and his legs are forced apart by a few nudges of the mans knee. Two slick fingers tease his entrance before pushing inside. Frank grits his teeth, gripping his hair and relaxing as he starts to get stretched out. He was no stranger to anal, but usually didn't take the bottoming role. Ghostface's other hand slides around his hips and a finger runs up his cock, drawing a soft moan from him. A few minutes of light teasing and his cock is back to full hardness and Ghosty's up to three fingers. He appriciate the care but he was starting to rock back into the mans hand, which was pathetic. 

"Come the fuck on." He growls, annoyed as the fingers are pulled out. Clothed bulge pressing against his ass as Ghostface leans down. The mans heavy breathing is muffled by the mask. 

"Beg."  
"Thought you didn't like it when people beg." 

Soft laughter, and he feels fabric shift next to his face as the mask is pulled off. Clattering on the tiled floor. 

"You're my exception, Franky. Now beg for my cock." 

He bites his lip, weighing his dignity against his arousal. The answer was clear. Frank was no stranger to changing for others, getting them to like him, to trust him. Danny was no different. 

"You're really gonna make me do this?" Frank whines, wiggling his hips against Danny's cock, "Please? Fuck me like you hate me." 

That seems to rile the man up. He moves away and Frank hears clothing rustle and a soft moan from the man. The slick head of Danny's cock presses against his ass and Frank lets out a slow breath. Danny rocks his hips for a few tantalizing seconds before thrusting his cock into Frank. He gasps and groans at the feeling, mostly from pain as his thigh bumps the bathtub. His nails slide on the tub floor as Danny starts. Moving slow and gently rocking his hips into Frank. Not quite thrusting to allow him to adjust to the size. Suprsingly considerate of him. While it wasn't the biggest cock he's taken before Danny obviously knew what to do with it. Going so far as to gently coax him into arching his back and spreading his legs further apart. Impatiently Frank shakes his ass a bit to hurry him along. 

"I'm going to fucking destroy you." Danny whispers, pulling his cock almost entirely out before thrusting inside if him hard enough to slam his body into the cold tub. 

Frank gasps in a mix of pain amd pleasure at the brutal pace Danny sets. Hands grip his hips, nails cutting into his skin as he sets the pace. Two short fast thrusts punctuated by a slow hard one that quacks him with pleasure. Danny moves him with the thrusts, forcing Frank further back on his cock and their thighs clap with every thrust. Frank moans, arching his back and earning a shot of pleasure up his spine so intense he chokes on his own drool. Fingers grip his short hair and yank his head back. He doesn't even feel pain he's so blissed out from Danny's cock fucking him into another goddamn reality. 

"Do you want me to cum in you?" Dannys voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, "Or would you rather feel it drip down your thighs?" 

"I-I-" He struggled to form words, to ficused on the shocks of pain and ecstacy coursing through him. 

"Inside?" 

He nods as best he can with the fingers in his hair. It was a guilty pleasure of his. 

"Are you close now?" 

Frank nods again, even without being touched he felt orgasm building. His hair us releases and instead Danny slides his hand around to grab Frank's hard cock. One short stroke is all it takes.. With a curse he drops his head and tenses up, body spasming as Danny continues stroke his cock, smearing fresh cum all over himself. The man lets out a grunt and his thrusts slow to a stop. He waits for the warm jizz to spill inside him, but nothing happens. 

Danny pulls out and manhandles Frank into turning around. In a daze he leans against the tub and tries to focus on Dannys face. The mans eyed flutter shut and he moans moments before cum shoots all over Frank's face. Danny sighs in pleasure,Smiling at Frank almost lovingly. 

"That's not what I asked for." Frank manages to force out, annoyed as he reaches up to wipe a few strands away from his eyes. 

"Hmm? I don't care. You look better with my cum on your face anyway." Danny purrs, leaning forwar and gripping his chin between two fingers. He tilts Frank's head up and a tongue drags up his cheek. 

"You're disgusting." He shudders and tries to pull away from Danny to no avail. 

Danny presses his lips against Frank's and forces his tongue in his mouth. The taste of semen is salty and makes him want to gag. Angrily he presses his pans on Danny's shoulders and pusges him away. Spitting on the tiled floor in disgust. 

"Be careful Franky. I almost gutted you back there." 

He rolls his eyes, bracing and hand on the tub and pushing himself to his feet. His ass was in pain now along with his leg. He shuffles to the sink and turns it on, splashing water on his face to clean the cum off. He grabs a rag off the toilet and soaks it in warm water before sitting on the lip of the bathtub. Gently he wipes the dried blood off his chest and stomach. Staring at the scratches carved into his stomach and feeling sick at the sight. It was like a signature on a painting. 

Tossing the rag aside he grabs and soaks another one, using this one to clean his stab wound. Once almost the fresh and dried blood is gone he's able to examine it closely. Thankfully it was very shallow and clean, it would heal best with stitches but he could slap a bandaid on and deal with it. Now clean of bloodcand cum he half hops, half limps out into the room. Avoiding the sight of the bodies and glaring at Danny as he buttons up his coat. 

"Your stuff is by the trashcan. I'll stich your leg up when we get out of town." 

He grabs his jeans and tries to pull them on. Unfortunately they irtitste his wound too much to actually wear them. Instead he pulls on his looser sweatpants before tying up his sneakers. 

"Franky." 

"What?" 

"You can drive." Danny says, and when Frank glances up he tosses the keys towards him. 

"Gee, thanks." Frank rolls his eyes, grabbing the keys from off the bed and shoving them in his pocket. He ties up his shoes and tries to stand, hissing as pain bolts through his leg and hips. 

"Fuck me." He whines, hopping over to the desk tv stand and leans heavily on it. 

"Round two so soon?" Danny teases, rebuttoming his coat pulling on his gloves. 

"Thats not what I fucking meant." 

Danny winks at him and looks at the two bodies, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Frank watches as he cuts the ropes with his knife. He picks the woman up and he head lols back so far he's suprised it doesn't fall on the floor. Danny carries its body to the bed and drops it down with little care. Frank can't stop staring at the dark empty eyes and slack expression on the corpse. He didn't kill her, but his actions made her die. 

"Oh hey, he's still kicking." Danny says, lifting the man by his armpits and dragging him over to the bed. He lays him down next to his wife, "Wanna do the honors?"  
"No." 

Danny shrugs and with out any hesitation he slices the mans throat open. Frank shudders and looks away from the sight. 

"Can we go now?" Frank asks. He felt cold all the way to the marrow. Guilt was starting to set in at what he did and he couldn't bear to look at the bodies any longer. 

"So soon? I was gonna do something fun with the guts. Maybe spell out just married or something." 

Frank rubs his temples and stares at the slowly growing bloodstain on his pants. If Danny started rooting around in those things guts he was going to throw up. 

"Yes Danny. I want to fucking leave right now because unlike you I'm not a psychopath and would like to be out of this room." 

A few seconds pass and a par of boots silently step into his view. Only inches away from his sneakers, shining with fresh and dry blood. He should look up, should glare at Danny and sneers and hiss and spit like a cornered rat. But he can't. He was tired, drained, scared and just wants to sit in the car and take a fucking nap. A hand rests on his shoulder and two fingers tip his chin up. Unwillingly he meets Danny's eyes and watches the mans face soften from anger to sympathy. 

"Alright, we can leave sweetheart." Danny coos in a voice so fucking sweet and concerned Frank almost bursts into tears. 

Danny grabs his duffle bag from the desk and shoves his bloody coat in it before pulling out a black baseball cap without a logo. He puts it on and wraps loops an arm around Frank. He doesn't bother fighting instead he wraps an arm around Danny's shoulders and leans his weight on him. Half limping out of the room, door slamming behind them ominously. The elevator dings and its thankfully empty when they step inside. 

"Think you can make it to the car on your own?" Danny asks, sounding annoyingly concerned as if he wasn't the reason he could barely walk. 

"Yeah." Frank grits his teeth and separated from Danny, leaning heavily on his good leg and bracing for the walk out. 

The elevator dings and he steps forward. Pain flared up and down his leg instantly. Swallowing a gasp of pain he clenches his jaw and does his damn best not to limp as they beeline to front door. 

No one stops them. No one even glances at them. Two fresh bodies are locked in a room upstairs and they get away with it. They get to walk out like nothing happened. 

He unlocks their car, dropping his bag in the back as Danny buckles into the oassenger seat. As he starts the car and pulls out he expects the cops to pull out. For someone to flag them down and pull them out. 

Instead he takes a ramp to the highway and merges seamlessly into traffic. 

They are invisible. 

He got away with murder, twice.  
Its a power trip like no other. Grip tightening on the wheel as the realization that he could hold peoples lives in his hand like a carefree God. 

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Skipped breakfast and now it's already noon? God the flies. Oh wait you're leg." Danny rambles, turning around a rooting through the bags in the back seat, "You wanna shower or just have me stitch you up?" 

"Doesn't matter." 

"I could use a shower anyway." Danny sits back in the passenger seat, a big red box in his lap along with a drawstring bag. He turns up the radio. 

'I can't seem to face up to the facts. I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax. I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire. Don't touch me I'm a real live wire' 

Frank reaches over and switches to the radio, not wanting to listen to the same fucking four songs over and over again. The station is still on the rock and roll he had switched to a few days ago. Danny doesn't say anything about him changing stations. I stead he rolls down the window and stares at the passing landscape. He focuses on ignoring the dull ache throbbing through his entire leg. A glance down reveals that the blood stain on his sweats had spread considerably. He was never going to get it out. 

"This exit here." 

Frank turns the wheel, jerking the car into the next lane and towards the ramp. He has to slam the breaks to avoid hitting some moron barely going the speed limit. Alamming on the horn he curses as loud and as angrily as he fucking can. Danny lets out a low whistle and laughs as Frank pulls into a parking spot. 

"Go wait near the back near the bathrooms I'll catch up." Danny orders, getting out of the car and looping his bag over his shoulder, "Dont look suspicious. And don't try to run." 

Frank glares at him and limps his way to the truckstop. Danny follows behind him with his bloodstained coat under his arms at a good distance, going towards the clerk while he makes his way to the back. The bathrooms stretch back and there's a small lobby area with a bench and larger rooms that had locks on the door. He sits heavily on a bench and stretches his leg out. Claw machines shine with cute lights filled with cheap toys. Julie was really good at those things, he had a few stuffed toys she had won him over the years. Leaning his head back he sighs and wishes that he had brought one with him. 

"We're room four." Danny says, brushing past him and punching a code into the door, "Hurry up." 

Frank hops in behind him into a barren room. It was large with a toilet, sink, and open shower stall. It was incredibly clean, much more than he expected it to be for a truck stop. There were fresh white hand towels and normal towels sitting on the sink waiting to be bloodied. 

"Sit down, pants off." Danny orders, already pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the ground. From the bag he pulls the medkit and a bottle of body wash. 

Frank unties his shoes and tosses them aside before pulling his sweats off. He hesitates with his hands on his boxers before deciding not to. Sitting on the toilet he looks at his stab wound, dried blood streaking across his thigh. The gaping slit in his leg was purple around the edges, deep black pulsing on the deep interior of his flesh. Curiosly he pokes the edges and hisses in pain. 

"Don't do that." Danny chides as he kneels infront of him. He opens the medkit and starts pulling out various supplies. 

"Why's you take your shirt off?" Frank asks as Danny pulls out the hydrogen peroxide. 

"I'm going to shower after this. Like what you see?" 

Frank sneers, clenching his fisst and steeling himself for the upcoming sting. Without any warning Danny drips the peroxide on his wound and he all but screams. Clenching his eyes shut and groaning at the horrible stabs of pain prodding at his already aching body. 

"Fucking god, Danny!" He gasps, "Give me a fucking warning next time." 

Danny smiles at him, sunken eyes looking particularly creepy from this angle, "Next time?" 

"Fuck you." 

A hand grabs his knee and jerks his legs apart. A cool hand starts to run up his inner though making him shiver before he grabs it. 

"What the-" 

"You wanna go again? I'll fuck you anytime you ask Franky." 

He didn't want to think about how he let Danny fuck him earlier. And that Danny fucked him so good he was willing to let him do it again, but not right now. He was showing too much weakness today, slipping and becoming the weird little pet Danny wanted. He releases the hand at his thigh and gently rests a hand in Danny's shoulder. 

"Please fix my leg. It really hurts and I...I can't focus." 

Danny nods, "I'll fix you up baby."  
  
The nickname disgusts him, but he doesn't fight it. Leaning back and staring at the roof as Danny works. Wincing as he spreads spreads a warm cream around the tender skin. 

"What is that?" Frank asks, looking down as his leg starts to go numb where the gel was applied. 

"Topical anesthesia. Should keep the pain down for about an hour." Danny replies, "I'm not gonna give you stitches, don't got anything for you to bite." 

"Good. I don't expect your stitches to be good." 

Danny laughs, wiping down his numbed leg before pressing a bandage onto the area with surgical tape. He stands, giving Frank a of his stomach and chest. Frank half expected him to have a six pack with how easily he lifted and carried him around but instead the guy was very average looking. A few scars dotting his chest but nothing crazy. He grabs his coat off the ground and turns on the sink, rinsing the garment under the tap. 

"Cold water gets out blood really well. Especially when its fresh like this." The man muses, annoyingly calm as he talks about. 

"Can we not talk about this morning, eh?" 

"Sure, I get it. Wanna really soak in it I bet." 

Frank pulls his sweat pants back on sits back. His leg felt better already which was very good. The sounds of clothing rustling fills his ears and then the sounds of running water. Frank focuses on his breathing. 

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest sex scene ive ever written, youre welcome


	9. Book Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was fed a crumb on inspiration and i finished out the chapter for you guys! Thank you for understanding and the support! I might update a bit more sporadically but ill try and wind it down from here

"Take the next exit onto the freeway." Danny says, glancing up briefly from his nails. 

"Whatever." Frank jerks the wheel, merging brutally into the far lane and receiving a chorus of honks that he ignores. 

"I can't believe you got your license. You're a terrible driver." 

"I didn't." 

"Explains just the passport I guess." Danny says thoughtfully, "Are you hungry?" 

"No." 

"You sure? Acting really bitchy for someone who's not hungry." 

Frank tightens his grip on the staring wheel and glares at Danny. The mans feet were kicked up on the dash and his passenger seat fully reclined. Literally filling his nails like some chick. Fucker had looked insufferably pleased with himself since fixing up his leg. It made Frank uncontrollably angry to see him so smug over getting a quick fuck and double homicide. Or maybe he was just angry over how much he enjoyed the whole ordeal in the end. No amount if meditating helped those little thoughts. Either way he wasn't indulging the cocky little fuck with conversation to get back at him. 

"I do know a place where we can get some good food." Danny muses, unfettered by Frank's one word responses, "It'll be the third exit we come across. A bit off the beaten path but my friends are very nice." 

Frank snorts, "Friends? You meet them at your book club?" 

"How'd you guess? The author of the month is Stephen King. You read any of his works?" 

Danny was insufferably good at small talk. So much for staying pouty and silent. Maybe it was what Danny wanted, for Frank to be bitchy and rude after what they did and how he acted on the showers. It means that he was on the defensive and insecure, which wasn't wrong. It wasn't to late to roll over and pretend he was super okay with murder and fucking next to the bodies, just so Danny wouldn't get the last laugh. 

"I don't read." 

"Oh I'm sorry. Are all Canadians illiterate?" 

"I said _don't_ read not can't you fuck." 

"Right. Right. Fine you watch any then?" 

Frank shrugs, passing the second exit, "Sure. I've seen It, Cujo, Children of the Corn, The Shining, Creepshow. Sure you've seen more." 

"Oh of course, great movies. Didn't expect you to have watched Creepshow." 

"My friend's picked them out. Most were alright I guess." Frank takes the third exit. 

"The books are usually better anyway. Especially the ones they won't make into movies." 

"I was kidding about the book club thing, Danny." Frank sighs in exasperation. 

"Oh, were you? Huh." Danny pouts then points at a hidden drive, "Go there." 

He does as told, taking the turn as Danny starts flipping through radio stations idly. Eventually stopping on a news station. 

"-ound early this morning. The couple were on vacation from New Jersey, reported missing by their adult daughter that lives in the area after they didn't show for a visit on the way home. The bodies were found mutilated in their hotel room, all evidence points to The Ghostface killer." 

Frank reaches over to turn the station to music instead of Danny's jack off material. His finger barely rests on the dial when Danny strikes him with the metal nail file. 

"Fuck!" Frank hisses, yanking his hand away, "God fucking fine you freak." 

"Left ahead." 

"Fuck you." Frank takes the left, car starting to bump on the dirt road they were going down. 

"Police suggest that there may have been a third victim in the homicide and a potential rape, however her body has not been discovered yet. And now back to traffic." 

"Aww look at that Franky, you've been downgrades from culprit to helpless victim. Nice sex change too." 

He remains silent, ignoring Danny as he weaves through potholes. No wonder Danny had a kill count higher than his petty theft charges, the police are fucking worthless. Lost in thought he rams head on into a huge huge pothole, shaking the car violently. 

"Shit." Frank growls, glancing at Danny only to see him staring out the window. 

"You can pull over here." 

"Uh, in the ditch?" 

"Yeah." Danny says as he opens his door somehow and steps out of the car. He opens the back passenger door to grab his duffle bag before going around the side of the car the drivers door. 

Before he can move Danny opens the door and cuffs his right hand to the steering wheel with cold steel handcuffs. 

"Danny what the fuck!" He snaps yanking the chains angrily as his left hand is wrestled into a cuff and also attached to the wheel. 

"Don't be a baby. I'll be back in fifteen minutes tops. Can't have you driving off." Danny reaches around him and turns the ignition off before closing the door and waving at him, "Be good! Oh and I'm leaving the keys here so I dont lose 'em." 

"Get back here you stupid fucking- fuck!" Frank lays on the horn as Danny sets the handcuff keys on the hood of the car before he walks off into the woods, rounding a bend and vanishing out of sight. 

Cursing in rage he thrashes around a little bit. Honking the horn for a full three minutes until he gets a headache. Sweat starts to collect on his back and forehead as he's forced to sit in sullen silence. Danny had closed the driver and passenger door, and rolled the windows up. A light breeze blows weakly every few minutes from the open back door cooling the sweaty skin of his exposed arms. Thank god he was wearing something without sleeves. Without any other options he leans back in the seat and waits for Danny to get back. 

... 

He awakens from a half dozing state soaked in sweat as stomach cramps force him from a dream. He groans, peeling himself off the seat and leaning against the wheel. The change in position awakens numerous pinpoints of pain all over his stiff body. The sun was lower in the sky, but the heat wasn't letting up. Danny mentioned they were still south, still in this god fucking awful humidity. A small breeze blows in from the back door, but it's not enough to cool the clammy sweat on his skin anymore. Frank licks sweat off his lips, realizing how thirsy he was. The sun was still high when they stopped, now it was low. Had to have been out here for at least four or five hours, sweating. Dehydration was a real killer, and he hadn't eaten or drank anything since last night. Hard to work up a post murder appetite. Too bad the only type of survival he ever learned was cold weather. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? 

In a brief rage he punches the wheel of the car and brings a doleful honk. He needed to think instead of wait around wasting time. Everything was distracting him and the heat was making it hard to focus. Right now he was sweaty and dehydrated, but the sun was going down abd it would be cooler at night. If Danny was fucking with him he'd be back by morning and laugh about it. Fucker probably doesn't want to sit around in the heat either. Worst case, frank just wasted precious time sitting around waiting to die. 

He looks at his hands, wrists red and raw from where the cuffs presses against his skin. Being in cuffs wasn't a new feeling to him, he'd been in the back of cop cars plenty of times. If only Julie or Joey were around to lend him a bobby pin to pick the lock. If worst comes to worst he could probably break his thumb and slip out enough to open the door and grab the keys from the hood, but he wanted a good hand to stab Danny with a sharp object. 

Fuck he was drifting again. Leaning forward he rubs his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Dehydration. Water. He glances down at the cup holder and catches sight of a unopened water bottle. Fucking incredible. The chain clinks as he reaches for it and he groans at the effort he's going to use for a simple task. He leans down and bits the lid with his teeth, sitting up and taking the bottle from his mouth with his cuffed hands before popping the cap. He drinks gratefully from the hot water, spilling plenty on his chin and shirt before tossing the empty bottle into the passenger seat and leaning back. 

It occures to him that maybe he should have rationed out the water a little bit. Once the thought crosses his mind he shakes his head, sending a wave of nausea and dizziness over himself that makes him squeeze his eyes closed in ahony. That was a dumb thought, he wasn't in a survival situation Danny was just fucking around with him. Idiot had just gotten himself lost in the woods and would wonder back soon. He blinks blearily out the window and sighs. The only thing out there is the cicadas screaming into the dusk. Fuck, he's almost tempted to join them and start screaming as well. Frank flexs his shoulder blades, joints cracking painfully as he tries to get some feeling back into his arms. Kicking his legs out and gasping at the pain that radiates through it. Unfocused eyes land the janitor from Ormond. 

Frank jumps with a gasp, straightening up and gawking at the spot where the man had stood only to see trees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a slow breath. That was weird, just a trick of his mind from all the shit that been going on. He looks back up and holds in a scream as a monster stands infront of the car. 

It was the rotting remains of the janitor. Just as he remembered when he dug the fucking body up in the spring to bury it in a deeper grave. Putrified skin sloughing off its bones, the lower jaw hanging on by a thread of muscle, teeth falling back into its soft mushy throat. He could still smell the sweet scent of rot, tasting it on the roof of his mouth. A maggot wiggles out of the monsters gaping maw and falls on the hood of the car with a heavy thud. More start to drip out, sounding like hail on a tin roof. He starts to pant out of fear, closing his eyes like a child and whimpering. 

"It's not real. Its not real. It's not real." He whispers, waiting until his hear stops racing to move. 

Frank cracks an eye open and lets out a sigh of relief to see that the monster was gone. 

"Why did you make us do that?" 

He jumps, turning to see Susie sitting in the passenger seat. It takes a few moments of awe before he attempts to touch her pink hair, only to be stopped by the cuffs. 

"Susie?" 

"Why did you make me and Joey kill that man?" 

Another cramp lights a fire of pain in his stomach and he gasps desperately, taking a few quick deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. The muscles in his stomach loosen just barely. 

"Couldn't you just be happy living out your's and Julie's dark fantasy?" Joey's voice pipes up from the back seat. He turns back to see the man lounging in the back like nothing was wrong, "Had to drag us into it too, eh?" 

"What the fuck is going on?" Frank mutters, rubbing his tired eyes and looking back to the passenger seat. Susie was staring at him in annoyance. Joey leans forward and raises his eyebrows. 

"Trying to shift the blame?" Susie asks, tilting her head. 

"Or share the blame." Joey adds, "Don't wanna own up to a mistake?" 

"An overreaction." Julie says suddenly. 

Frank whirls around but he can only barely see Julie due how far he can turn. A desperate glance in the rearview mirror and there she is. Idly playing with a knife next to Joey. Despite the circumstances the sight of her relaxes him instantly. 

"An...overreaction?" Frank repeats, head throbbing more than normal. His vision was getting fuzzy at the edges. 

"I shriek in suprise, and suddenly a man is dead." Julie muses, picking dirt out from her nails, "Always said I'd never kill for anyone, not even you, and you wouldn't even kill for me...but I guess we were wrong." 

"I-It...we..." Frank slurs, trying to collect his scattered thoughts, "It was an accident." 

"Stabbing a guy once is an accident." Joey starts. 

"Taking turns stabbing a man to death, is not." Susie adds. 

"And burying the body in the woods is, in fact, murder." Julie finishes, "All of us committed murder, Frank. And its your fault." 

He leans his head against the steering wheel and covers his ears. Trying to drown out the haunting voices of his friends with the horn. This wasn't real, they couldn't be here they were thousands of miles away. 

"Honestly Frank, killing that guy wasn't that awful I mean we talked about killing allllll the time," Julies cool voice creeps through his fingers, "But making Susie and Joey do it too? That's just sick." 

"Shut the fuck **up**! Frank screams, whirling around in his seat to see...nothing. A breeze blows through the open door and washes over Frank's damp face. 

He was alone, again. 

Slowly he turns back to look out the windshield. It was dark now. A full moon light the path up enough to see. But now it was dark. It had been light earlier but now it was dark. 

It was dark and he was alone. 

It was dark and he was alone. 

It was dark and he was alone. 

"I want to go home." He whimpers, learning his head against the wheel again and choking back a sob, "I want to fucking go home." 

After a few minutes he wipes his eyes. Feeling only a little better in the slightly cooler night air he looks around the car again. Getting out of handcuffs isnt hard, he had busted a few in his Cow Town days he just needed to focus. To get out of the dark. A slight shine catches his eye and he sees Danny's nail file sitting innocently in the cup holder. Previously hidden by the water bottle. He leans over, straining against the cuffs as he bites the file and sits up. Passing the file off to his hands. Carefully he spins the small instrument and shoves it into the part of the cuffs where the loops of metal lock. A bit of wiggling and his right cuff pops off. He quickly does the same for the second cuff and just like that he's free. Just like that. Frank shoves open the door and falls out of the car into the dirt. He feels his legs spasm widly as cramps flare up along his thighs and calfs. Agony so intense flares from his stab wound he blacks out.

Blinking he pushes himself up to his knees, the world spins around him. He sways so heavily the entire world tilts, only helped by leaning heavily on the car as he pusges himself up. The nail file was clutched in his hands still, and he didn't remember when he pissed his pants but now he wasnt too concerned about it right now. Every step sends pain through his leg but he marches slowly down the road towards where Danny had run off. Crestsing a hill he stares uncomprehending at the fancy house at the end of the dirt road. 

Before long he's at the door, panting heavily as darkness nips at the edges of his vision. Danny was inside, living it up after slaughtering the family inside. The doorknob is oddly cool in his hands as it turns and he stumbles into the house. A blast of cold air hits him so hard he falks to his knees. The TV was playing in the living room and he can see Danny standing in the kitchen doorway. Rasing the nail file he runs at Danny. The sound of his crazed breathing cause the man to turn around as he sinks the nail file into the mans neck. Blood spurts out of his jugular and he starts to choke as Frank yanks the file out stares into the horrfied eyes of a stranger. Fuck. 

"M-Marnie!" The man yells, stumbling back and knocking a bowl of popcorn off the counter and onto the floor. 

He blinks, and looks around for Danny. Where...was he? Why was this man still alive? 

A woman walks into the room and screams, running to the man on the floor and waving her hands over him in fear. She looks at Frank, eyes wide in fear and terror. 

"P-please don't hurt us!" 

Drool drips from his chin onto the floor and the room starts to blur. He sways and tries to lean on Joey's shoulder but he stumbles. He tries to speak, but he can't force words out of his mouth. He can't feel his tongue anymore, or his fingers for that matter. From the darkness he sees Ghostface emerge, dark boots silent on the tile. He blinks, trying to figure out if the killer was real or not. 

Pain shoots through his legs again and he collapses to the floor. Blissfully his head doesn't slam against the tiles, but agony swims through his veins as he twitches. Sounds fade quickly, and darkness eats him whole. 

As if through a fog he hears screams and movements. He forces his eyes open and sees dark black boots walk past his face. His hand shoots out and grasps at the mans boots. Weak clammy fingers brushing the thick leather. Pulling himself up to his knees as Ghostface kneels in front of him. Frank lunges, attempting to stab Ghostface with the nail file in the stupid dropping eye. His wrists is grabbed and no matter how hard he pushes he can't over come the others strength. 

"You fucking bastard." Frank slurs as the file is taken from his hands. 

Ghostface pulls the mask off and sets it aside, ruffling his hair lovingly. Frank snarls at him, spraying foam and spittle all over the mans black coat. He attempts to bite Danny but is held off as the man scoops him into his arms and lifts him up. Frank thrashes a few times before his head starts to throb and he feels another blackout coming. Instead he goes limp, allowing Danny to carry him upstairs. His energy reserves are completely spent, he can't even force himself to struggle when Danny sets him on cool tile as he hears water start running. Instead sinking down to press his face against the floor as he feels Danny unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants and boxers. Gently he's lifted into a sitting position. 

"Arms up, Kiddo." 

Frank complies as best he can, only able to lift his arms halfway barely past his chest. Its enough for Danny to pull his shirt off, leaving him naked on the bathroom floor. Danny lifts him again and hes gently set in a half full tub of cool water. Its the biggest tub hes ever been in, he's able to stretch his legs all the way out. Damp gentle hands tilt his face up he'sforced to look at the blurry face infront of him. His coat was blood splattered and sleeves wet from the bathwater. 

"Please kill me." Frank mumbles, "Just fucking do it." 

Danny rests his head in his other hand and tilts his head at Frank, "I hate it when people beg." 

"Then punish me for it." Frank snaps. 

"No." Danny coos. 

"I did kill a man before I met you." Frank says, trying to ignore Julie walking past Danny and sitting on the edge of the tub, "But that doesn't mean I'm like you." 

The other man turns the water off when its up to his chest, content to let Frank soak for a bit. 

"I'll bring you something to drink. Good job getting outta the cuffs." 

He sinks chin deep into the water and stares at the rotting corpse of the janitor standing above him. Tears slide down his cheeks and he closes his eyes. 

"I want to go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heat stroke/exaughstion is no joke stay hydrated


	10. I AM THE DEVIL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fart with applied reverb*

Frank regains consciousness when he rolls over and feels silk brush against his sore leg. His head throbbed and his mouth felt try and disgusting. Before he opens his eyes he tries to take inventory of his surroundings. Notably in a cool room under a fluffly blanket with silk sheets. He wasn't wearing pants or shoes or a shirt but at least he had boxers on. It hadn't been a dream then, he was still fucking alive and stuck with Danny. Finally he had reached the point where he wasn't even fucking embarrassed about his inane ramblings while the psycho bathed him in the tub. It only took two weeks to get break, he always hoped he could last at least a month. 

In resignation he opens his eyes and is met with an unfamiliar ceiling, which isn't an odd situation anymore. What is odd is that he's not tied to the bed like a dog. That's a plus. He sits up, tilting his head and listening to the faint noises coming from outside. The curtains in the room were drawn but light leaked in from the sheer pink lace. He was in some girls room. Polaroids of friends and posters of bands covered the white walls, hell the bed was one of the four postur one and had the curtain things. Canopy or something? Spoiled little shit. While surveying the room he catches sight of his reflection in the vanity and shudders. Dark circles and fading hickeys along his neck and collarbone. He looked less like shit than expected as he stands, shivering slightly without the blanket to shield him from the AC. A wary glance at the wardrobe and he decides that getting mocked for wearing some strange girls clothes wasn't something he wanted for today. Shirtless it was. 

Exiting the room he moves quietly down the hall, finding himself on the second floor of the house. The railing overlooked the living room, which was completly empty and not blood splattered. The TV was on and he could hear a news station buzzing away. Otherwise it was silent as a grave. There were three more upstairs rooms to his left and the stairs to his right. Danny didn't sleep so he moves right towards the stairs to look for him on the first floor. The stairs are a challeng, his stab wound was red with nasty purple veins webbing out from the hastily patched wound. Every movement causes pain to dance across his thigh, but he leans heavily on the railing and manages to get down. 

The living room leads right into the kitchen, and a sliding glass door reveals a in ground pool in the backyard he didn't see last night. He feels a smidge of jealously towards the well off owners of the house but its quickly wiped away when a door out of sight clicks shut and Danny steps out. Their eyes meet and the other man smiles, cold eyes lighting up as he wipes blood off his face with a gloved hand. He was in a black t-shirt and jeans. They were also hiny with blood. 

"You're up early!" He says, shoving a chair under the knob of the pantry, "Feelin' better?" 

"Why won't you kill me already." Frank demands, fresh rage boiling under his skin. 

"I don't want to kill you." Danny says, pouting slightly as he turns away to wash his gloves in the sink, "Stop asking. It's getting annoying." 

Frank limps forward and grabs Danny's shoulder. His grip is still weak from the torture of yesterday but he mananages to spin Danny around to look at him. Digging his nails into the cool skin of his upper arm and he hopes it fucking hurts. Danny tilts his head, staring down at Frank curiously. 

"I fucking hate you." Frank hisses, "I'll kill you and play in your fucking blood." 

Danny's face is mostly impassive as he stares at Frank, but his eyes light up at the words. The dark circles those eyes were deeper than Frank's, he reeked of blood, and he nicked himself a few times shaving. Most importantly his pupils were dilated more than they should be. Wouldn't be surprised if he was on some sort of upper. Danny was starting to crack. The man doesn't reply to Frank's threat either, only letting out slow even breaths. It annoys him that Danny doesn't care. That he treats him like nothing. The mans eyes slowly trail down Frank's body, and his stomach twists in disgust as he lets go of Danny's arm and backs away a few paces. Its now that he notices that the only thing his threat had done was give Danny a fucking boner. He turns away in anger and starts back towards the stairs. 

"Frank." Danny calls, voice soft and vulnerable. It stops him on his tracks. 

"I think there's something wrong." 

He turns back to Danny, who hadn't moved from infront of the sink. The man was staring listlessly at Frank with an emptiness in his expression that made him anxious. 

"With what?" 

"Me." 

He laughs at the, unable to keep a straight face as he turns away from Danny, anxiety draining away. He wanted to find something to wear. 

"No fucking shit. And you work as a reporter?" He cackles, honest to god cackles as he crawls upstairs, "There's a lot wrong with you, Danny." 

Unfortunately no teenage boys seemed to have lived in the house, but he does find his bag of clothing in the master bathroom next to Danny's duffle bag. He pointedly ignores the soiled clothes in the corner of the room and pulls on his Nirvana t-shirt. His black jeans won't fit over his swelled though. A quick look through the families drawer and he pulls on a pair of loose fitting sweatpant. After dressing he gulps water straight from the faucet, wiping his mouth and looking at his miserable reflection. There was something wrong with him too. Something in his eyes was missing, something human and good was gone. Not replaced just...gone. Chipped away more. 

No...more like weathered away. Broken off after a lifetime of dark thoughts pounding against the shore of his shitty morality. The janitor was the breaking point and now it was all coming down around him. Last night had fucked something up in his mind, whether it was the hallucinations or the seizures that broke him. Now something was wrong. Maybe it was...what he did while in that feral frenzy. 

"You good, Torrance?" Danny whispers, seeming to appear in the doorway as Frank looks at the reflection of the man instead of turning to face him. 

"Fine." 

"Have you ever heard of B.T.K?" 

He vaugly recalled Julie mentioning them, but he didn't care about killers that weren't caught. 

"Sure." Frank says with a shrug. 

"Serial killer, out of Kansas. B.T.K stands for bind, torture, kill." Danny continues, slowly entering the bathroom. Frank watches him in mirror, like a hawk "He sends letters to the police y'know? I love that about him, how brazen he is. How shitty cops are at catching monsters. I've been writing my own damn articles for almost a year, and they can't catch me." 

Danny's gloved hands rest on either side of the counter, trapping Frank between his chest and the granit tabletop. 

"I think he said in one letter 'How does one cure himself? If you ask for help, that you have killed four people, they will laugh.'" Danny whispers, breath ghosting over Frank's ear as he leans closer and closer, "My body counts at fifteen. How do I cure myself, Franky?" 

He can't meet Danny's eyes in the mirror, instead looking down at his hands gripping the edges of the sink so tight the tips of his fingers were numb. 

"What's your body count?" 

"One." Whispering so softly he can barely hear it. 

"Four." 

Anger to bubbles inside him and he looks up to glare at Danny in the mirror. He opens his mouth to snap at him but stops short when a cool leather glove wraps around his throat loosly. The other hand rests on his hip. 

"Don't you get it Frank?" Danny's breaths slides over his skin as the man rests his head on Frank's shoulder, "You can't be cured now. You can't ask for help, you can't get away from me now. Wanna know why?" 

Frank swallows and finds himself leaning back against Danny for a small amount of comfort another person, "Why." 

"I am the devil, and you are just like me." 

He wants to cry. He wants to curl up in the shower and sob until his eyes burn out of his skull. But he holds back his tears. Moving slowly he gently pushes Danny's hands off him and exits the bathroom. Moving past the king size bed in the master bedroom and making his way downstairs once more. Now he can smell the faint scent of bleach and soap. A wave of dizziness overtakes him and he sits heavily on the couch, blinking the stars out of his eyes. Behind him he hears movements and a glass of water is placed on the table infront of him. Gratefully he sips it as Danny cuddles up next to him on the couch as if he didn't say anything. He doesn't bother pushing him away or fighting when Danny lays in his lap. 

"How old were you?" Frank asks, staring at the TV but not really paying attention to it. He still felt incredibly sick and weak. 

"Eighteen." Danny murmers, fingers playing with Frank's short hair, "I was swimming with my best friend, both of us were a little drunk. Fucking around late at night, y'know." 

Frank looks down to see a wisful expression on Danny's face at the memories. 

"I meant when you first killed someone, not fucked someone." 

Danny laughs, soft and distant as he smiles up at Frank, "I did kill him, Frank. Held him underwater until he stopped moving." 

"Why?" He asks, trying to figure out why that didn't make any sense. 

"I've always had dark thoughts." Danny admits, "An obsession with Serial Killers and horror since I was a little boy. It didn't make me a psycho though. It just made me more creative." 

"Thats why you killed your best friend? You watched Friday the 13th too many times?" Frank snarks, not liking how much Danny was starting to sound like Julie. He had a feeling the two would get along unfortunately well. 

"Of course. I got drunk, couldn't help but think that maybe Jed would make an exquisite corpse, and with so few inhibitions I did it," Danny trails his gloved fingers down Frank's cheek, "I was right. He looked beautiful in the moonlight dead as alive." 

"You're a monster." 

"I know." Danny sighs and drops his hand to his side, "They never found his body. Said he wondered off into the woods to take a piss and never came back. They believed it, we were city kids out in the boonies. He's not on Ghostface's body count." 

"Does that bother you?" Frank asks, finding himself interested in what was going on in Danny's head. Despite the time spent together he knew very little about the man. 

"Not really. Danny, Ghostface, they're just masks I put on." He says with a shrug. He pulls one of his gloves off and holds his hand up to Frank. 

"Touch me." 

He obliges, resting his hand on Danny's and allowing the man to entwine their fingers. His hand was warmer than the rest of his body and he squeezes slightly. 

"I'm warm. I have a pulse, you feel flesh against yours, right?" 

"Right..." 

"That's the thing. I'm not _really_ here. I don't know where I lost what was once inside me, maybe its in the bottom of the lake with Jed, but it's gone now. I put on my mask, and I exist until I take it off." 

Frank stares at Danny's intense brown eyes, and feels pity for the man. He obviously had some sort of fucked up mental illness that had festered into this thing laying in his lap. Frank knew he had problems, that he felt empty every day and put on a face, a mask, more often than he would like to admit. Maybe thats why Danny kept him alive, he could see through the eyeholes of his mask this whole time. 

"You get it, don't you?" Danny whispers, smiling triumphantly, "You're not really here either." 

"Don't lump me with you. We're different. I told you." Frank huffs, looking back at the TV in anger. He's not suprised to find a segment about Ghostface on, "Look you're on the news." 

Danny perks up, sitting up and turning his gaze to the TV in excitment. Easily distracted. A few pictures of some random victims with their familys flash across the screen as the narrator drones on. 

"Right now the Ghostface killer is most likely traveling with a female captive. Owners of the hotel that was scene to the murder of the Schummers has provided a composite sketches of the suspects." 

Frank groans in annoyance as a drawing of whats supposed to be him appears on the screen. It looked more like if Julie got a buzzcut. Danny bursts out laughing, hands jostling Frank's shoulder as they show the composite that's supposes to be Danny, which looks nothing like him. The guy was so plain looking he was hard to remember. 

"Holy shit Franky! Holy shit!" He cackles, flopping back on the couch and slapping his knee, "Oh man they really got your likeness! God they didn't even remember your tattoo!" 

"Fuck off." He grumbles. 

"I think you look better as a boy if it makes you feel better." Danny offers, leaning on his shoulder with a slight yawn, "Don't move." 

"Why?" 

"I'm taking a nap." Danny replies, "Can you keep watch?" 

Frank makes a disgusted face as Danny nuzzles into him and goes still, not giving him a chance to protest. Thankfully the remote is in reach and he flips the channel to something thats not the news of the murders he commited. Danny's slow and steady breathing is comforting in a weird way. Frank can't think of a time he had seen Danny sleep infront of him outside the backseat of his car. He was sure Danny had slept in the hotel with him at some point. But it was equally likely the guy had stayed up most of the time as well. He still feels weak from the last few days, but he isn't tired enough to go back to sleep. 

The clock above the TV read one in the afternoon. He glances back towards the kitchen pantry door and shudders. The owners of the and their daughters bodies were stashed somewhere in this house. Tears prick his eyes and he sighs, wishing for simpler times. Where it was Julie or her dog curled up in his lap and not this monster. His eyes rest on a wireless phone on an end table near the stairs. It was so close and he was weighed down by this psycho. 

Danny's breathing was slow and steady, and his body still and relaxed. A rare sight to behold. Tentatively Frank runs a few fingers through Danny's greasy hair. Watching close for any reaction, a slight stir or stabbing attempt. The sleeping man is still, so Frank slowly starts to shift out from under the man. Gloved hands reach out and he grumbles, stirring slightly as Frank stands and shoves a throw pillow in the searching arms. The man grips it close and, cracking an eye open to stare sleepily at Frank. 

"Gotta piss." Frank offers, which Danny seems to accept as he nuzzles the pillow and nods off immedietly. 

Frank walks casually towards the phone, grabbing it, a letter, and wayward walllet, as he passes in one smooth motion and crawling up the steps with only a little dizziness. There was surly a bathroom downstairs but he wanted as much distance between him and Danny as possible if he was going to be whistle blowing. He turns into the girld room and closes the door before shoving the desk chair under it. He opens the window and looks out, happy to see that it was feasible to jump out andrun for the highway. Hopefully Danny would go check there if he happened to wake up. With his decoy set Frank opens the closet door and hunkers down inside. First he dials the number he knew by heart. He clicks through the options for payment and then waits as the phone rings. 

"Kostenko residence." Julie's detached voice answers. Frank feel tears well in his eyes, he was crying a lot these last few days. 

"Julie..." Frank says softly, causing her to gasp. 

"Frank? Holy shit what the fuck- where have you been?" She rants, sounding equally upset and relieved. Frank leans against the wall of the closet and closes his eyes. Pretending that his friend was with him and not thousands of miles away. 

"It's a long story. I'm in the states and...and...fuck Julie I'm absolutely fucked." 

"Cut the cryptid crap." Julie orders, all buisness it makes him smile like a child, "Why the fuck are you in the states. You and Clive fucked off without a word and he came back alone and just said you weren't coming around anymore like what the fuck?" 

"I...do you know the Ghostface?" 

"Huh?" Julie grunts, "Yeah he's active on the American coast, why are you mentioning that now?" 

"He found me." Frank says softly, "He found me and had me tied to a fucking bed for a week and...and..." 

"Whoa wait, back up. What the fuck?" Julie interuppts, "The Ghostface killer?" 

"Look fuck I gotta call the cops, I hope I'll see you soon." He says, hanging up before she protests. 

He takes a deep breath and listenes carefully to the dead silence in the house as he dials 911. The phone rings as he cracks the door and reads the addess on the letter, memorizing it before closing the door. 

"911, what's the nature of your emergency?" A plainspoken male voice says. 

"I uh, I need the cops out to uh, 454 Thatcher Lane?" Frank says carefully, "Someone broke into my house." 

He lies as best as he can, if he said the Ghostface was sleeping on the couch he would get fucking laughed at. 

"Of course! We are dispatching a cruiser now." 

"Don't have the lights flashing!" He whispers quickly, "I uh, live a house in the woods and I don't want him to run off. The doors unlocked I think please hurry." 

"Okay young man we'll get that done. Can you stay on the line for me." 

Frank hangs up and shuffles out of the closet. Slowly making his way downstairs and retaking his place on the couch, letting Danny settle in his lap and waits for the beginning of the end of all of this. A smile appears on Danny's face when Frank idly runs his fingers through his hair. He was going to be free soon. It was all gonna be okay. 

"Go back to sleep." Frank whispers, staring at the front door like it was the only thing in the room. 

"Mhmm," Danny mumbles in response, rolling over and wrapping hus arms around Frank's torso as he nuzzles his stomach. 

It takes fifteen minutes for the police to arrive. He hears tires crunch on the gravel and tenses up, breath catching in his lungs as the shitty fucking cops conversation drifts into the house. Danny snaps awake, sitting up straight as the doorknob turns. Frank watches his eyes alight with understanding, cold brown lands on his and they are filled with white hot rage. Frank surges forwards and punches Danny in the face like he had wanted to do for so long. A wave of nausea hits him and he almost throws up. 

"You little... Bastard." Danny growls, grabbing Frank by his shoulders and throwing him onto the floor. The room spins and he almost passes out, "I fucking trusted you." 

Danny wraps his hands around Frank's throat and squeezes. He lets out a choked gasp as he stares at the familiar cruelty in the face of the man above. Distantly he can hear the scuffles and yells of the police as they enter the room. Danny is pushed off him and detained by the black clad officers. Frank gasps, scrabbling back in what feels like slow motion as Danny screams at him from where he's being pinned and cuffed. 

"-rip you fucking teeth out! You hear me Frank? I'll string your guts up on a fucking tree!" 

A two hands grip his arms and haul him up and away from Danny as the man surges forward. Screaming in rage as hes pulled out of the house. The sun hits his face and it feels like he's moving in a fog, or a dream. Like he just left a movie theater after a double feature. His legs are heavy, painful and though the officers mouth is moving he can't process any of the words. A shock blanket is wrapped around his shoulders and not for the first tine in his life a cop guides him into the back of a cruiser. 

"-Don't you fucking ignore me!" Danny's voice rips through his mental haze and he looks over at the man being dragged kicking and screaming towards the second cruiser, "This is not an exit! You can't escape me!" 

The man is shoved into the other police cruiser as more cars pull up. Frank can see him thrashing in the back as the car pulls out. He blinks and turns his attention to the cop. 

"I wouldn't open the pantry if I were you." Frank says softly as he scoots further into the car, "Get someone salaried to deal with that." 

Then he starts to laugh. He puts his head in his hands and he grows breathless with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapters gonna be formated weird


	11. AND I AM JUST LIKE YOU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting in this is a bit weird but its fun

Excerpt of Police Report written after the apprehending of Daniel Johnson, prime suspect in the Conrad case.

Items Found on Person: Wallet containing a Drivers Licence belonging to Daniel Johnson, a notebook, and blue ball point pen.

Items Found in House: Duffle bag containing one knife, 20 feet of rope, three sets of clothing, one cologne bottle, one perfume bottle, 700 dollars in U.S currency, and a Fun World Fantastic Faces Mask. Secondary duffle bag containing clothing and personal items belonging to Frank Morrison (See report 2246)

Items Found in Vehicle: 120 total feet of rope cut into varying lengths, multiple hunting knives, four notebooks, digital camera (See file 24), handcuffs, 22. Caliber Automatic Pistol, amunition for pistol, and Passport belonging to Frank Morrison (See Report 2246).

\- x -

Video of interview with Daniel Johnson four hours after arrest. He is being questioned about Frank Morrison (See Report 2246)

-

"Who is Frank Morrison to you?" The officers asks sternly.

The room is plain and the bricks are painted white. All of it. A stainless steel table is between Danny and the officer. A manilla folder sits between them, closer to the officer than the suspect. Danny's hands are cuffed infront of him and he's reclined on his foldout steel chair. Deep dark circles are under his eyes, as he hasn't had real sleep in almost four days. The pale color of his face is accentuated by the orange scrubs. He is not smiling, but he is not frowning. There is something in his eyes.

"Oh that's a good one. Are we gonna talk about Franky now?"

The man has said almost nothing of interest in the interview. Managing to ramble about horror movies for almost an hour. Dancing around the matter of him being the Ghostface killer, or being involved with the Conrads, a bored look on his face the entire time. Now he seems more engaged, a michevious smile tugging on his features.

"Why did you kidnap him? He's not from America. Were you in Canada recently? Have you killed there?"

Danny lets out a hum of thought, tilting his head left then right, "Well I don't remember being in Canada in the past few months, but I could have been. Yeah maybe. Probably."

The cop makes a note of that in a notebook. There will be many notebooks involved in this case.

"Is there anything special about Mr. Morrison? Are you two close?"

A full smile, the first one since his arrest, appears on his face. Bright and evil he leans in to the cop, who in turn leans in as well. Expecting some sort of breaking news, which is exactly what he's going to get.

"Yeah. We're pretty close..." Danny whispers, barely being heard by the recording, "I mean I got my cock in his ass a few times."

The officers face morphs into one of disgust, and Danny starts to laugh.

"You know that tongue ring of his feels real nice on you dick. I'm sure if you ask nicely he'll blow you!" Danny covers his mouth to stifle his giggles as the officer attempts to regain composure.

"So you two had a...intimate relationship."

"Oh yeah we really liked to fuck around. Guy is into some kinky shit, you should ask him to put out for you!"

-

Any questions involving Frank Morrison will lead to explicit conversation, it is unadvisable to lead the interview in these directions.

\- x -

Interview with Frank Morrison 24 hours after arrest. He was taken to a hospital shortly after coming into police custody suffering from lasting effects of dehydration, heat stroke, and onset infection from untreated stab wound. After a short stay, rehydration, and antibiotics, he is returned to the station well enough for questioning. He is being asked about Daniel Johnson.

-

The room is plain and the bricks are white. The suspect is sitting in a metal fold out chair, recling with his arms crosses. While he has been cooperative there is something closed off about his demeanour. One would say he is hiding something, but it has always been a quirk of the mans character. There is a part of him that is unreachable by most.

"How were you abducted by Danny?" The interviewer asks. He was young, only thirty and on his first case.

"Well I tried to steal his car." Frank begins, pausing when the officer snorts and raising his eyebrows. He was allowed to change into his street clothes, mostly. He wasn't allowed a belt and was given slippers used for inmates.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to admit to Grand Theft Auto." The officer apologizes, making a note in his notebook. The man liked Frank, or the image he was projecting. He wanted to help the troubled youth.

"I'm sure he won't press any charges, eh?" Frank jokes, offering a smile to the officer.

It doesn't reach his eyes.

"Well anyway I tried to steal his car. Got pretty far out onto the highway too before he woke up. Sleepin' in the back. Uh well then he kinda beat the shit outta me and carted me around like a dog."

Frank sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He was not handcuffed.

"I uh, he...well shit." Frank frowns, perhapse genuinely annoyed at his inability to articulate his experiences.

"It's okay, Frank. Take your time."

"I tried to escape once, and then he took me to a hotel room and chained me to the bed " Frank admits, looking at the table between them instead of at the officer now. There is something stirring in his eyes.

"Did he...do anything to you?"

Frank shrugs, "No. I mean he was...weird but not too violent I guess. Why? Did he say anything about it?"

"He admitted to staying in the hotel and nothing else." The officer replies, omitting the graphic details Danny had told them about sexual encounters the two had.

"Danny is a fucking liar." Frank's voice is blunt, "And you shouldn't trust anything that comes out of his mouth. About the time at the hotel or anything else."

"Why not."

A shrug from the suspect, "He was- is off the fucking rails. That guy is a psycho and he wants to get a reaction out of people."

The officer nods, quickly making notes in the book before capitalising on the subject, "Can you tell us about the time at the hotel?"

Frank nods, sitting up in his seat and rubbing his arms. He looks at the officer, then down at his hands. They curl into fists before he speaks.

"It was like a scene out of a fucking horror movie."

\- x -

Daniel Johnson has requested to see Frank Morrison in person in private. This request had been fulfilled under the approval of Frank Morrison and both attorneys and agreement that they will be filmed and recorded.

\- × -

Frank steels himself for his altercation. It had been almost two weeks since the call and this was the first time he was seeing Danny again.

The alleged capture of the Ghostface killer had been less of a shot shoe than he expected. Frank was lucky enough to sweet talk the guards and craft a convincing story at the expense of his pride. As far as he knew Danny hadn't said a god damn thing about anything. Barely even admitting to the three people he killed in the house.

"You gonna be okay in there?" His attorney asks, gently patting him on the shoulder.

Frank resists his first instinct to slap the hand away and nods. He was a meek abused young adult who was traumatised, now wasn't the time to act on violent impulses that were starting to cloud his judgment.

"Yeah. I'll be okay."

An officer opens the door and Frank steps inside. Danny was seated on a metal chair, he was handcuffed in an ironic twist of fate. He smiles brightly at Frank as he approaches and sits down on the chair opposite of Danny. A large metal table stood between them. 

"Hey Frank." Danny purrs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, "You look well."

Ironically Danny also looked well. The circles under his eyes were lessening and he looked like he actually washed his hair sometimes. 

"They don't exactly leave me in a car for hours on end." Frank snips back, crossing his arms and glaring at Danny.

"Ah, sorry about that. Did I apologize earlier?"

"No."

"Well I'm sorry now." Danny nods to himself before letting his eyes trail over Frank's body, "They let you wear your own clothes?"

"I'm not in jail."

The man raises his eyebrows in interest, "Really now?"

Frank is silent, staring at the man as he plots. They were both smart, and the game wasn't over yet. Frank still needed to get out scott free, and Danny still needed to get his sadistic kicks. It wasn't cat and mouse as much as it was house cat and panther.

"So, what have you told them?" Danny asks, tilting his head to the side. Frank narrows his eyes.

"That you kidnapped me, and forced me into a shitty triva game then left me in a car to die." He shrugs, "The truth."

The man nods, and Frank holds his breath. Waiting for Danny to start asking him if he told the cops about his part in the killings. To start casting doubt on his character.

"I thought we really had something, Franky..." Danny says whistfully, "But then you had to go and fuck it all up."

Frank is silent. Staring at the man and waiting for him to strike Danny runs his fingers through his shaggy hair, pushing it back and seems to make his mind up.

"Get the cops in here. I'll talk to them. You've already heard my confessions." Danny finally says with a jingling hand wave, "I'll tell them what they wanna here and get myself put down."

Frank blinks at the man in shock. That was...easy. But then again Danny was a dirty little liar who would roll like a fucking tumbleweed on him. He wasn't gonna wave them in for him. 

"One request..." Danny says, holding up a finger as his voice drops, "One hug for the road. It'll be our last I promise."

Danny wants to tell him something, and he needs to be closer so the camera can't pick it up. As much as he doesn't want to Frank stands and walks around the table as Danny rises. The man has to put his arms over Frank's head due to the cuffs, trapping his arms at his elbows as the man pulls him close to his chest. Tentatively Frank hugs him back with as much enthusiasm as roadkill. A soothing hand runs over his back and Frank almost relaxes.

"I'm not going to sell you out." Danny murmurs, "Since you didn't throw me under the truck."

The man laughs at the memory of their first meeting. Frank is silent as he rests his head on Danny's shoulder. A strange mixture of emotion bubbled up inside him at the finality of it all. This man had brought out the worst in him in a way that no one ever had before. It was horrifying and addictive. He was doing well enough with the attention from the cops. Despite denying interviews he glowes with joy when he was mobbed by the local repoters with their cameras on his way to the hotel room they set him up in. Enjoyed the local news talking about him and Danny like a new age Bonnie and Clyde. 

But soon that would be gone. And no one would care about the fucked up little lap dog fuck toy of America's greatest killer. Back to Ormond.

Back to nothing.

Alone.

Frank squeezes Danny with a newfound desperation. Balling his fists into the soft fabric of the orange scrubs. Maybe they could have been okay out there. Gained Danny's trust and continued murdering up the coast. It was so damn easy to get away with it too. The fairytale was better than the reality, of course. That Danny would keep pushing him and hurting him until he died. Danny didn't actually care, and Frank couldn't let himself pretend he did. 

"Frank." Danny whispers, causing him to shiver. 

"Yeah?"

"You better hope I get the death sentence." 

Before Frank can respond Danny sinks his teeth into the soft skin between Frank's neck and shoulder. He let's out a scream of anguish and tries to pull away, but Danny pulls him flush against his chest with cuffs, sharp bails digging into his back. Hot blood starts dripping down his neck as Danny surges forward and bites his collar bone, tugging at the skin and growling like a dog. Frank loses his balance and they both fall to the floor. Anguish burns through his neck as he feels Danny's canines rip his flesh. He thrashes around as the cops pour in and try to wrestle Danny off him. A futile act considering they were so horribly entwined now. Frank knees Danny in the stomach and the man gasps in pain as the cops lift him and unlock Danny's cuffs. The man bites his collarbone one last time as the cops yank him off. Frank howls in agony as a chunk of his flesh is pulled off with him. Danny smiles at him, blood dripping down his chin and glinting off his teeth. He spits a chunk of his own skin at Frank's feet as he desperately scrambles away. He slaps the hands of two cops away as he stands on his own. Danny is slammed to the floor and his hands are cuffed behind his back now. A few strands of hair fall in his forehead and Frank feels a rush of want and fear. 

"Enjoy your love bites." Danny calls as Frank is dragged out of the room by his attorney.

\- x - 

Frank Morrisson required thirty stitches after the attack from Daniel Johnson. He is no longer allowed any contact with Frank Morrison. Daniel Johnson has not offered any further confessions or information related to additional murders. He has not confirmed or denied accusations of being the Ghostface killer. Further investigation is underway. 

\- x -

Excerpt from video interview of Daniel Johnson and state psychiatrist.

-

"Why did you attack Mr. Morrison?" The woman asks, staring at Danny over the table. She watches his body language like a hawk, but it is silent. 

"I thought it was pretty obvious." Danny replies, pushing his cuticles back with intense concentration, "Was it not?"

"Humor me."

Danny shugs, glancing up the woman and reading her body language. She was a little nervous to be in the room with him but hid it well. Her job required her to work with all sorts of people, but Danny was a different breed.

"I wanted to see if his blood tasted as good as his cum."

The woman blushes, and Danny snickers to himself. She had been warned to not bring up Frank, but she did anyway.

"Are you saying that to get a rise out of me?"

Danny nods jovially, "Why else would I say it."

This was going nowhere fast. The psychiatrist looks at her notes, leafing through the highlighted parts of interest. Frank was the key to learning about this man's train of thought, and eventually confession. 

"I spoke to Mr. Morrison yesterday..." She starts, waiting for Danny to perk up. 

He doesn't.

"Frank mentioned you tried to kill him. Can you tell me about that?"

Danny hums, examining his nails under the harsh florescent lights. The handcuffs clang against the table loudly as he does so.

"Hmm? Oh the car thing. It was an accident."

"Really?"

"I got so...wrapped up in what I was doing I kinda forgot." Danny smiles apologetically at her, "Happens to us all, right"

"You're aware he suffered from two seizures, had a infection and could have died in days without medical attetion?"

"I'm a reporter, not a doctor." Danny offers up with a shrug, "Seemed well enough to me."

"Do you feel bad for what your actions did to him?"

This question gives Danny a pause. His eyes wander off to the middle distance as he mulls over the best answer.

"No. Can't say I do." He lies. 

\- x -

"What the fuck do you mean he didn't kill his dad?" Frank screams at his attorny. The man sighs and rubs his eyes. 

"We called his dad. The man is alive and we in his hometown. He confirmed Danny's birthday and xeroxed us copies of his birth certificate, year book photos, and even his passport. His father is alive and well, Frank."

"What about Jed Olsen?"

"The only person with the last name Olsen in that town is a woman named Gertrude. There is no one named Jed in any of the year books, or town records dating back to the twenties. I checked myself."

Frank slams his fist on the desk four times in quick succession. Wincing in pain as he does so. He didn't know what he was more pissed about, the fact Danny lied twice or the fact that he believed him on one of them. 

"The camera you found? It had pictures on it, right? what were they of?" He asks, starting to pace around his attorneys office. Their had to be something there. Dead bodies or some victim or something damming.

"...You."

He stops dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"They're all pictures of you, Frank." His attorney sighs and slumps in his chair, "Asleep, tied up in the car, in the bed, a few of you awake and zoned out. It's damming evidence for kidnapping but that's it."

"So what! We can still get him killed right?"

The man glares at him sternly, "Don't call capital punishment 'getting him killed'."

Frank rolls his eyes, "Fine, how's our case?"

His attorney looks at the stack of papers in misery and sighs again. They had explained to Frank that this was his public defender, America's version of duty counsel. It was obvious the guy didn't want to do what he was doing, but fuck someone had to help kill Danny.

"Right now he's only being tried for the Conrad family in this town. If you want to add kidnapping we can talk to the prosecutor about it, but since it happened in Florida he would need to be charged in Florida. It's all messy because you're not a legal American citizen, and you'd have to sue..." The man says with no care or enthusiasm, "But that's it. And we don't have a good case for murder anyway."

Frank yanks at his hair, his chest burns as stiches are tugged from the movement. This was insane, this was fucking insane.

"What do you mean you don't have a good **fucking** case? He was caught red handed in a house with three bodies. I was with him when he murdered the Schummers! He's the fucking Ghostface!"

His attorney looks sadly at the clock then back at Frank. It makes him see red. All he wants to do is scoop this stupid mother motherfuckers eyeballs out and force feed him them. 

"We've contacted the local sheriff's department in that town, and they won't tell is anything. The most they offered is that the only DNA found on the scene was yours. And that's both blood and semen. Danny is a monster but he's not the Ghostface, kidnapping isnt his m.o."

Frank's face flushes but nevertheless he tries to make sense with this incompetent fucker.

"And if I was there..." He pauses for emphasis, "He was there. So he...killed. Those. People. You found the mask in the car."

The man sighs, "Frank, I believe you. I really do. But I don't think you can convince twelve people to go for capital punishment with a dollar store mask. There's a lot of copy cats out there."

"Why the fuck not! Look at me!" Frank screams, pointing at the fresh stitches and stabbed over wounds. He lifts his shirt and points to the fading scratches spelling Danny above his navel, "Look at this! He did this at the hotel! Do I need to show you my fucking stab wound! How is this not a case!"

Frank is gasping in rage from yelling as he drops his shirt. He stares at the ragged tired eyes of his attorney, and knows there is no fucking hope. 

"You're story is full of holes. I don't think you're lying, but fuck Frank he lied to you nonstop. Everything is circumstantial and your testimony is unreliable. We have threads of evidence and its not enough to hang the man." The man says calmly, sorting his papers into a briefcase, "Now if we don't go for capital punishment-"

"No. He has to die."

"See its when you say that sort of thing that makes you less reliable." He says, rising from his seat, "If you wanna shoot for capital I won't stop you but no jury is going to convict him on circumstantial evidence."

"He's insane!"

"Yes, Frank. He is. The man has been off of his medication for almost three years." He says as he starts to corral Frank out of his office, "Which only works in his favor, mind you. The insanity plea might work for him."

Frank is forced back into the hallway and his attorney gently pats him on the shoulder. He slaps the hand away, hot with rage.

"I'm doing my best Frank."

He bites back a death threat and nods meekly, following the man down the hall.

"Can you drive me to my hotel?"

"Of course."

When he closes the door to his room he walks over to the bed and sits down. Breathing slowly and deeply for a few minutes before he slowly reaches under the pillow and pulls out a length of chain attached to a leg of the bed. He loops the chain over his neck and clicks the padlock shut. The key was set inside the Bible at the bedside. With the familiar weight on his shoulders he curls up under the covers and closes his eyes. 

"Open your legs." Danny's voice slides over him like rain. Frank doesn't obey, instead leaning back against the man's chest. He bares his throat to the man and shivers when gentle kisses press against his shoulder. Where the chunk of flesh was bitten out. 

"Make me." Frank shoots back. Reveling at the warm hands running over his hips and thighs, fingers gripping slightly as the hands pull his legs apart. The hands gently massage his sensitive thighs before stroking upwards. A single finger running up the length of his stiff cock. 

He moans, balling his fists into the heavy cloth of Danny's coat. The mans other hand runs up his chest under the chain. Two fingers press against his lips and Frank's licks them. Allowing Danny to press the digits into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over them fervently. 

"Good boy," Danny whispers, rocking his hips against Frank's ass. He can feel the bulge of the mans hard cock against him, and the praise make him jerk his hips forward. 

Finally Danny wraps his hand around Frank's dick and strokes. The pleasure of it all makes Frank melt. 

"More....more please." Frank begs around the two fingers. Danny chuckles and moves his hands away. 

He coaxed Frank to turn around and straddle his waist. The ghost white mask stares back at Frank as he wraps his arms around the mans neck. The hot tip of Danny's cock teases at his entrance. A gloved hand grips the chain and pulls it taunt. He can hear excited muffled breathing under the mask, and he slowly lowers himself on the mans cock, moaning in pleasure as he's filled up. Danny thrusts hard into him.

Frank jerks awake, gasping softly and staring at the blank beige wall. His deck was throbbing hard and the dredges of his dream swirl in his mind. Before he allows disgust to hit his shoves his hand down his pants and cums after two strokes. Idly he wipes his hand on his pants and stares at the ceiling. 

How fucked up was it to miss Danny?

\- x -

"In the case of the Conrads, Daniel Johnson has plead guilty to one counts of murder and will serve twenty five years in a mental institution." The judge says, "Case dismissed."

Danny turns to Frank, who was sitting on a bench near the front. A look of disgust and horror written on his face. Slowly the young man looks at Danny. He had avoided his eyes a trial, but Danny was always watching. He smiles at Frank, and relishes the spark of fear in the mans blue eyes as he's lead away to a holding cell.

This wasn't over.

\- Interview with Frank Morrison, six years after the apprehension of Daniel Johnson. Interviewed by Zarina Kassir. - 

Frank and I are seated at the coffee table in shared condo. The room is crowded but clean, a monuments amout of sticky note reminders cling to the fridge. Framk had made two mugs of coffee for us, both mismatched. 

"So Frank, is there anywhere you want to start?" 

The young man sighs, sinking in his chair and shrugging his shoulders. There's a heavy weight that he carries in all his movements. On his neck is large white scar. 

"I guess the beginning is easy enough. Ease into the shitshow, eh?" Frank smiles, hiding his obvious apprehension very well. 

"Why were you in Florida?" I ask, starting with some easy and factual questions. 

"Foster dad had some unfinished buisness, Danny had killed his aunt and he needed to sell her stuff. I helped." 

"You still call him Danny?" 

Frank nods, "Fuck else am I supposed to call him? 'Sides the Ghostface of course." 

"Most people reference to him as the Peach State Ghostface. Since his stint was in Georgia." 

The man rolls his eyes, Fixing me with an annoyed look, "Don't tell me you're one of those who know believe the shit the cops say about him, eh?" 

"I'm only stating facts that are proven. Do you believe he has a higher body count?" 

Frank fixes me with a cold stare. He doesn't look angry per se. It comes off as intensity born from conviction. 

"Yeah, I believe he's the Roseville Ripper, and the Ghost of Philly. Honestly I'm certain the only Ghostface murders he didn't commit were the Woodsbourgh ones." 

Frank has always been very public on his opinions about Mr. Johnson. Claiming the man had killed far more than his supposed body count, and that he was sane enough to stand trial. Both points found wrongful by court of law. 

"Do you keep up with his case?" 

"No, not personally. I have friends who keep me updated on what they think I should know. And well. I get shittier reports throwin' info at me every month or so too." 

I nod, taking a few notes when Frank speaks again. 

"He. He sends me letters too." Frank admits. 

"Really?" I asks, noticeably excited at new information as Frank smirks a little. 

"Yeah, I get em' every month or so." He leans over as he speaks and plucks a plain envelope from a mail holder off the counter, 'Got this one in yesterday. Figured I'd save it for your prying eyes." 

He slides the unopened envelope across the table to me. On the front was the mailing address for the Sanitarium Mr. Johnson was confined to. 

"Are you sure I can read this without you-" 

"Go ahead. They're screened before coming. And all of them are basically the same. Probably better stuff than you'll get from me." Frank sips his coffee and turns to look down the hall, fingers tapping on the counter. With his permission I indulge in the letter, reading the scrappy blue cursive aloud." 

"Dear Frank, 

It's cold up there this time of the year. Isn't it? Not a fan of the cold, just like you don't like the heat. Thankfully they keep it nice and warm in here. Though thoughts of you keep me warmer. I got a letter from someone asking me to marry them. I scratched their name out on the letter and replaced it with yours. Wouldn't you believe I almost cried? 

With love, Danny." 

Frank is silent after the letter, before laughing shaking his head, "What a fucking freak, eh?" 

"Is this the extent of communications you've had with him?" I ask, returning the letter to the envelope. 

"Yeah. I don't write back. Don't have shit to say to that monster." 

I look at my notes and prepare for the big questions that have been looming over the interview. 

"What was it like in the hotel room." 

The moment I ask the question Frank tenses up, visibly upset at the question and the memories they bring. After a few moments he answers. 

"I guess....it could have been worse" he begins, "I mean I was held there against my will, but I was able to use the bathroom and he fed me," Frank shrugs, "It didn't go to shit until we left." 

I pull put a manilla envelope and pull out a few large photos. 

"These are crime scene photos from the hotel. Gave you ever seen these?" 

Frank shakes head, I slowly slide one across the table towards him. Its of the bodies laying together on the bed. He stares at them with a masked expression. 

"Danny put them there after the...game. He cut the mans throat, he had been bleeding out for...fifteen minutes I guess." 

I slide another picture over to him, its a few bloodstsins splattered in the bathroom. Frank is silent as he stares at the picture. 

"No comment." He whispers. 

I change the topic, instead pulling out a few printed photos, pulling the crime scene shots back and setting down a picture of Frank. He's sitting in the front seat of a car and flipping of the camera, there's a smile on his face. 

"These were found on Mr. Johnsons personal camera. Have you seen them before." 

Frank looks wistful and he picks up the photo, "No I haven't. He took this of me when we left the hotel. Almost forgot I was still blond then." 

"These ones might be...uncomfortable to look at. Would you like to see them?" 

He sets down the initial photo and nods. Taking a deep breath before nodding. 

I slide over a photo of him. In this one he is obviously naked and asleep, anything below his hips is cropped out. The centerpiece of the photo is Danny scrstched into his stomach. 

"This was at the house he was caught in. I recognize the bed." Frank looks at the stake of photos and he sighs, "Are they all like this?"  
I nod, and he rubs his eyes with his hands and shakes his head. 

"I want to make this clear. Danny is a fucking monster, and he hurt me for no other reason than he felt like it. He fucking bit me so hard I love with this!" Frank points at the pale white scar, "There's nothing I can tell you about Danny that will lead you to a deeper insight. He's a fucking monster, end of story!" 

I collect my photos and thank Frank for his time. He seems calmer, and tells me to drive safe. 

I get the feeling that Frank has plenty of demons he isn't going to tell anyone about. Secrets he will keep to himself.,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listen to a lot of true crime, mainly last podcast on the left, and boyo cops are fucking useless. This is barely an exaggeration on how some cases go


	12. This is Not An Exit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time skip!

Frank curses as hes pulled from a nightmare by the ringing phone. Angrily grabbing his cell phone from the bedside table, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

"You better be dead or dying." He growls, squinting at the time on the clock. 

"Frank it's Dayton Smith." The voice says. He frowns as his half asleep brain tries to catch up. 

"Why the fuck are you calling at five in the fucking morning?" He shivers in the chill. "If I needed a shitty attorney I'd get a grad student." 

"They let Danny out." 

Frank stars at his sheets light by the dim moon shining through the curtains. That wasn't right, that couldn't be right. 

"What?" 

"I don't know who authorized it but they let-" 

_"Why did they let him out "_ He hisses, stumbling out of bed and finding his jeans, "When was he released? What the fuck!" 

"Fuck Frank I don't know! Good behavior? He's out on parole I think its only been a week-" 

"When they find my body in a fucking ditch-" Frank seethes in rage, "Send my fucking roommate flowers." 

He hangs up and throws his phone on the bed. Pulling on a long sleeve shirt and finding his boots to tie on along with his hunting knife. 

"Dude why are you yelling at five in the damn morning?" Joey's voice pipes up from his room. 

Frank ignores him as he pulls on his jacket. The phone rings again and he grabs it angrily. 

"Dayton you dumb cunt I don't wanna hear-" 

"Franky." That fucking voice stops him dead in his tracks. He swallows, and sits heavily on his bed. His mouth opens to respond but he can't find anything to say to the ghost. 

"It's been so long, did you get my letters?" 

He did. Once a year he got a cream colored envelope from the asylum addressed to him. No matter where he moved he always got one. 

"...Yeah." Frank whispers back, fingers idly rubbing the thick scars on his neck, "I did." 

"Good." 

The letters were horrifically mundane, but he read every single one. It was somehow worse reading about how well Danny was doing peeling fucking potatoes and missed him so much. 

"Danny-" He hears a soft intake of breath from the other end and he shudders, "It's been ten years-" 

"Oh I know. Ten years staring at a white wall." Danny says, voice soft and bubbling with anger. 

"And you're out now. Just...just..." 

"What? Let it all go?" Danny asks, "Forget about what you did? Forgive you for turning on my like the cornered little rat you are?" 

He doesn't respond. What can he say? He betrayed Danny when the man showed trust, when he was at his weakest. And for what? A normal life at Ormond? Coming back home and seeing everyone look at him like he was made glass. Being a one man Manson Family? Frank's big American Adventure just ended in insatiable bloodlust and fear that every shadow held Danny waiting to exact revenge. 

"Where are you?" Frank asks instead, "Are you in Canada yet?" 

"Maybe. Gonna call the cops again? Wait sorry, the Mounties? So fucking typical." 

"Can you meet me at...at the Super 8 in High River today?" Frank asks instead, "I'll try and get room six or eight." 

Danny is silent on the line for a long time. Probably a little surprised at Frank's offer. Finally the man responds. 

"I can do that." 

"Okay good. Listen Danny I-" 

"Save it, buddy. If I see one fucking cop between here and the hotel I'll cut each of your friends throats with rust barbed wire." 

The line dies before getting can respond. He shoves his phone in his pocket and jumps up. Shoving random clothing into his backpack before kneeling by the leg of his bed and unlocking the padlock holding the chain tight to the metal. It clinks loudly as he drops it in the bag along with a few toiletries. It was five thirty now, High River was only an hour away. Danny couldn't be too far either to call him now. It would be better to arrive late so Danny could stake out the place, if he assumed that Frank was calling for a raid. 

"Frank? The hell are you doing?" Joey asks when he walks into the kitchen. Eyeing his bag warily as Frank chugs milk from the gallon. 

"Tell my boss I'm not coming in." 

"Uh, sure...why?" 

"Tell him I'm at therapy or having a breakdown." Frank mumbles, grabbing a poptart for the road. He had plenty of meltdowns before, his boss was surprisingly understanding of his history. 

Joey shrugs in agreement, "Alright. Don't forget Julie gets out of jail today." 

"Oh yeah. Dinner at her choice?" 

"You know it!" 

Frank smiles at Joey and looks towards the steps, "Susie asleep?" 

He nods. Frank bites his lip, not wanting to be weird but still wanting to say goodbye to them. Unfortunately he's not smart enough to figure that out so he settles on the best goodbye he can. 

"See ya." Is all he offers up and he leaves, boots crunching in the frost as he gets into his truck and starts it up. 

He waits three minutes before pulling out and pointing his headlights towards High River. Hopefully doing this would spare his friends from having to face Danny on their own. The only time he ever went into detail about what happened was when he got piss drunk during Julie's twenty-third birthday. He sobbed into Susie's arms and babbled for what felt like hours. Since then she always was particularly gentle with him, which was a bit annoying sometimes but he couldn't complain. And with that fucking movie deal coming up everyone was on eggshells near him anyway. His thoughts drifting to the past as he drives on the lonely highway.

The sun was reaching its peak when he pulls into the Super 8 parking lot. Only four other cars sat in the lot, none with American plates. One of them had to be Danny's current ride. Resisting the urge to peek in all the windows he makes his way to the front lobby with his bag. The woman looks up at him and smiles. 

"What can I help you with, sir?" 

"Just one night. Is uh, room six open?" 

She types something on her computer, "No six ain't open honey." 

"Is eight?" 

She types more before nodding and reaching for the keys, "That'll be eighty-four, the deposit is twenty and you'll get that back at checkout." 

He her eighty-five and takes the keys, "Thank you Ma'am." 

She squints at him and tilts her head, "Sorry not trying to be rude, just swear I've seen you before." 

He fakes a smile and shrugs, "I get that a lot." 

Thankfully the photo everyone used for their documentaries was of a haircut he hadn't had in years. 

Room eight is on the upper floor and faces the parking lot. A steadying deep breath if the cool dawn air calms him as he draws the hearty hunting knife. He unlocks the door and looks around cautiously. The light was already on, but everything else seemed to be in place. The bathroom door was ajar, and the closet was open. Both rooms were dark and menacing in the murky hotel light. Frank drops his bag on the bed and slips off his scarf. The closet was small and empty, he only needs to glance inside briefly before he closes the door. Satisfied that its empty. The bathroom looms menacingly and Frank draws his knife. Gripping it tightly as he flicks the light on. He catches sight of himself in the mirror as he looks around the small room. The curtain was drawn back, hiding no one. 

"Danny?" He calls, closing the bathroom door and looking around the small room. There was nowhere else to hide. Suprsusws were Danny's specialty of course. 

Maybe he was acting a little too paranoid. He slides the knife back into its sheath at his belt and sits on the bed, burying his face in his hands. He looks at the bag and considers pulling out the chain. Being in hotel rooms always made him feel helpless, even after all this time. And as fucked up as it was he found chaining himself to the bed was the only way to really calm himself down. Digging his nails into his temples he lets out deep sigh. 

"You look different with brown hair." Danny murmuers, causing Frank to gasp and look up. 

The man was standing in front of him just out of arms reach. Dressed in all black as usual. In one hand was the ever present tacky mask, and the other a knife. He looked a bit different than Frank remembered or saw in his dreams. Older obviously. Prominent stubble and crows feet at the corners of his eyes. His hair was clipped shorter too, and graying slightly at the temples. But it was undoubtedly the same man. Danny smiles. 

"I like it. Miss the mullet though, you made it work." 

Frank glares at him, feeling ten years of anger bubble up in his chest. 

"Not gonna say anything?" Danny cocks his head, "Ah well, I don't like it when they beg anyway." 

The man rushes at him, knife shining as he attempts to stab Frank in the chest. On instinct he catches Danny's wrist, stopping the man in his tracks. Up close Danny was still a few inches taller than him, but seemed to have the same build but something was off. Danny blinks in surprise and drops the mask to throw a punch that knocks Frank off balance and stings like a bitch. He stumbles a bit, twisting Danny's wrist and earning a yelp of pain from the man. The knife clattering to the floor and he kicks it away. Frank releases Danny's wrist and grabs his upper arm, shoving the man back with ease. Danny tries to break his grip as Frank surges forward and pins him to the wall. Danny struggles to get away for a few seconds longer before he realizes that Frank has him overpowered. 

"Damn Franky, you been working out?" Danny teases, eyes sliding over his body freely. 

"I work construction now." Frank says, "Not the scrawny nineteen year old you could fuck up." 

Slowly Danny reaches out and runs his hands over Frank's arm, not so subtly feeling the packed muscle under his pale skin Danny on the other hand spent ten years rotting away. His frame was thin, skin pale and arms soft. 

"Hoooly shit." Danny wolf whistles as his fingers trail over Frank's chest, "You really filled out.' 

Frank shivers at the touch, closing his eyes as Danny's cool fingers run over his stomach. 

"Danny I-" 

He hears a mechanical clicking noise and opens his eyes to a gun pointing at his head. His smile was gone. 

"Sorry Franky, I came prepared." Danny shrugs, pointing a pistol at his forehead, "I don't like using guns. Not enough blood but-" 

"Danny." Frank interrupts, "Fuck- just listen to me for five fucking seconds instead of trying to kill me." 

Danny cocks his head to the side, manic eyes meeting Frank's before shrugging, "Go." 

Frank takes a deep breath, and spills the darkness thats been brewing in him for years. No coping method in the world could save him from the truth. 

"I regret calling the cops on you." He admits heavily, "No offense but you would have killed me through neglect, but..." 

Frank looks at his hands, dark with ink of faded tattoos, "I wanted to stay with you as soon as you were gone. You were right Danny, I'm not really here unless I'm with you." 

He watches a smile start to reappear on Danny's face and he continues quickly. 

"Ever since you went away I-I wanted to kill again but...but I can't do it alone. I need someone to push me to do it. Someone who can get away with murder. All this time I needed you." 

He's breathing heavily again, staring at Danny in desperation. This secret had haunted him for ten years. Dark thoughts swirling inside him but not able to escape. Evil actions wanting to be done, and the only thing holding it back was fear. Fear of getting caught, fear of getting locked away forever. He wasn't a fucking golden boy like Danny with more mental illnesses to scape goat with than he had tattoos. Danny was his humanity in some sick twisted way. If they could kill together again than he could feel again. He could be fucking invincible. 

"Frank you never cease to amaze me." Danny whispers in reverence. 

Slowly Frank leans in and presses his lips to the others. Danny kisses back excitedly, lips moving against his as a hand slides down Frank's chest and under his shirt. The hand was cold and soft and it makes him shiver. Danny flicks his tongue over Frank's lips and he opens his mouth to allow Danny to push his tongue inside. He had spent years chasing the high that had been their spree, and he felt that old buzz in the back of his skull. After a few moments Danny pulls back and presses kisses down Frank's cheek and neck. Stopping at the thick scars that dotted his collarbone and neck. Frank shudders as the man flicks his tongue over them gently, so unlike the viciousness of so long ago. 

"Why did you do that?" Frank asks as Danny pushes his shirt up, practically forcing Frank to take it off. 

"Hmm?" 

He points to the scars and Danny's breath is warm on his skin as he laughs. 

"I don't really know why I do the things I do, Franky. Especially back then." Danny admits, free hand trailing over the new tattoos dotting his torso, lingering on the gaudy daggers that rested on his hips"I guess you could say I wanted to mark you in some way." 

"...Are you mad at me?" Frank asks softly. He hates sounding weak, but he's learned when to show it. Right now Danny enjoyed seeing him seemingly grovel at his feet. 

Danny grips Frank's hip and pulls him closer, grinding their half hard cocks together through their jeans. The subtle spark of friction makes Danny groan in pleasure. The cold metal of the gun brushes his hip and he shudders in fear and pleasure as Danny hums in thought at the question. 

"Yeah. Can't let go of ten years in the ward for such a pretty face." Danny says, "But you're right, I would've killed you eventually if you stayed with me. I was fucking crazy back then." 

Danny laughs at that, without a care in the world about Frank's feelings. It was expected, and didn't hurt anymore. 

"But hey you're here now, and I'm not mad enough to kill you at the moment." The man muses, warm tongue running over his collarbone, "Let's focus on the here and now." 

"Right..." Frank replies, eyes trailing over to his bag on the bed. Danny follows his gaze and smiles. 

"Don't tell me you brought what I think you brought." 

Frank doesn't have the decency to feel ashamed as he backs away from Danny towards the bed. He wasn't stupid enough to turn away from the little psycho as he sits on the bed and pulla his bag into his lap. Besides spare clothes and the chain he packed a couple new horror movies Danny would like, condoms, lube, and medication. 

He knew he was fucked up, but it didn't bother him anymore. 

Danny shuffles up next to him and reaches for the chain, letting out a soft laugh as he picks it up and looks at Frank. It was a expression of smugness that made Frank sick. Bitter satisfaction on the scars he had carved into Frank's mind that refused to fade. 

Frank pulls the padlock keys out of his pocket. He stares at them in his hands for a few moments, before holding them out to Danny. Offering control. Offering up himself instead of letting Danny take it. 

Danny takes it from him. 

Without further prompting Danny loops the chain around the foot of the bed. He unlocks the padlock on the front and Frank doesn't resist as the man loops the chain over his neck and clicks the lock closed. The physical weight returns, and the metaphorical one vanishes. 

He was trapped again. In a prison of his own making this time. Danny grabs the lube from the bag and and tosses it on the bed before pulling his on shirt off. The gun is set out of reach as Danny unbuttons his jeans. Frank removes his jeans and boots mechanically. Both of them stripper bare before eachother. Danny runs his cold hands over his thighs and up his stomach, then resting on his shoulders. A pit opens up in his stomach and he feels like he's making a very big mistake as Danny starts to push him down. 

When Frank resists slightly Danny grabs the chain and yanks it back tight, choking him without mercy for a few moments before straddling his waist. 

"C'mon Franky, don't you wanna fuck all that trauma out?" Danny mocks, "Don't be a fucking quitter." 

He feels rage bubble up inside him again. White and hot as ever. He grabs Danny under his arms stands, lifting the scrawny fucker off him with ease before turning and throwing him on the bed. Danny throws his head back in laughter, grabbing the chain and pulling Frank forward. He kneels on the bed, crawling towards Danny as much as he's being pulled forward. 

"I hurt you, didn't I? I fucked you up oh so much. Poor little Frank Morrison. Tortured, raped, starved." Danny whispers as Frank kneels between his legs, "All by some guy who went a little crazy. Not the Ghostface killer just the copycat Georgia murderer." 

Danny grips Frank's face and pulls him close, utter rage was hot in his brown eyes. 

"You took everything away from me. And I took everything away from you too." 

Danny's hands run through his hair, gentle despite his words. Loving despite his hate. 

"We're together now." Frank murmers without thinking. 

"Ain't that cute." Danny purrs, gands stroking Frank's chest, nails biting into his skin hard enough to make him shudder, "Two halves of one whole. You're so soft now Frank, I'm dissapointed." 

Anger spikes in him and he grabs Danny's throat, forcing him down into the mattress and imagining how desperstly he wanted to choke the life out of him. Danny doesn't look afraid. Just annoyed. 

"God I really hate your hair too. Blond is do much cuter on you." 

"Well salt and pepper looks like shit on you buddy. Didn't realize you were so old." 

"Premature graying runs in the family. And all the stress of playing goody in the nut house didn't help." Danny gently takes Frank's hand and pulls it off his throat, "Do you want to hurt me?" 

Frank nods instantly. With that answer Danny grabs the lube from next to him and presses it into Frank's hand. 

"Then fuck me as hard as you want." 

He doesn't argue, spreading lube onto his fingers with a practiced ease. As much as he does want to hurt Danny he doesn't want to hurt him that much. He slides two fingers inside of the older man, earning a hiss of pain. He moves quickly, stretching him out just enough to slip a third one in. Thankfully he wasn't the only one sporting a half chub despite the lack of physical foreplay. Danny runs his fingers down his back, scratching him up. 

"Don't tell me you've been fucking other men." Danny asks, moaning when Frank wiggles his fingers at just the right angle. 

"Nothing serious." Frank says dismissively, pulling his fingers out before ripping open a condom and rolling it on, "I'm sure you got a lot of funny hand jobs from the crazies in the asylum."  
Danny laughs, "You know me, consent is sexy and a lot of my buddies weren't exactly lucid enough for my taste, but I had a few flings. None like you." 

He doesn't respond, instead slathering lube over his half hard cock and sighing. Grabbing Danny's legs he hikes him up on his forearms and slowly slides into the older man. 

"Fuck..."Frank groans, breathing softly as he waits for Danny to adjust. 

"Don't be a softie." Danny hisses, tugging the chain to pull him down, "Hurt me." 

He digs his nails into Danny's hip and pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in. Danny gasps in shock and pain as Frank gives him what he wants. Setting a brutal pace for both of them. He grows harder inside the man with every thrust. Danny's cold hands wrap around his neck, one entwined with the chain. He meets Danny's eyes, looking for the blaze of sadism. There's nothing in them. 

Danny squeezes, cutting off Frank's air supply as he fucks him. His vision goes fuzzy around the edges quickly. Lungs burning his thrusts slow until Danny releases his grip. Frank gasps desperatly before he lifts one of Danny's leg over his shoulder and thrusts in so deep their thighs smash together. Danny moans in pure pleasure, arching his back. 

"I hate you." Frank hisses just before Danny starts to choke him again. 

"Good." Danny coos, smiling gleefully as Frank's vision starts to darken, "Because I love you." 

He almost blacks out completely this time, Danny letting go at the last second just before he collapses. Gasping desperatly he can't bring himself to continue thrusting fully, simply rutting against the man. 

"No you don't." Frank hisses, gasping for air as pain and pleasure start pushing buttons in his brain that hadn't been pushed in years. 

Danny tilts his head, not dignifying Frank with a response and instead pulling him down by the chain and kissing him hard. The hands at his throat tighten again, and he moans as he starts to close in on release. The burn in in hus lungs and pain in his throat sending nothing but pleasure throught his body. He half growls as he pushes himself forward breaking the kiss to bite Danny's neck. The man tenses under and Frank lets out a guttural moan with the last of his air as he cums inside Danny. 

Warily he opens his eyes and is staring at the roof. The other man had choked him too long and he must've blacked out. He sits up to see Danny between his legs, a bite mark visible on his shoulder. Drying cum was splattered on his stomach and chest. Danny gently dips his fingers in the warm cum, bringing it to Frank's lips. He glares as he laps at it. 

"Did you mean it?" Frank murmurs. 

"Hmm? Sure." Danny says with a shrug. 

He hates that it makes him feel happy to hear that. The tension that had hung over the room had dissipated. All fucked out by now. 

"Are you going to kill me now?" Frank asks, looking down at Danny's cum over him. With anyone else it would make him feel worthless. 

"...No. I won't kill you." Danny replies, picking up the gun and clicking the safety on, "I was considering it, honestly. But hey I'm no monster, if you didn't call the police you would be dead in ditch after three weeks." 

He pulls the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the bedside trashcan. 

"And what now I won't die?" 

Danny smiles at him, pulling on a longsleeve black shirt, "This time will be different. I promise." 

There was a suprsing amount of compassion in Danny's voice, and it helps put him at ease as he wipes the cum off his chest with a tissue. 

"Wanna watch a scary movie?" Danny offers, setting the gun on the bathroom counter. 

"Sure." 

He grabs Frank's bag and pulls out the movies he brought. Reading the backs and deciding on American Psycho. 

This was going to be the end. It wasn't the 90s anymore they couldn't get away forever. But he wasn't going to go back to putting the mask back on. Walking through daily life like a ghost. Like he wasn't real. 

"Where were you hiding. I checked the closet and bathroom?" 

"Under the bed." 

"How'd you guess I would be in this room anyway?" 

"Well I killed the couple in six." Danny laughs and presses play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they live happily ever after (kinda)


End file.
